Unusual Fears
by SilVeR-EyeS-93
Summary: Nobody knows what Draco fears and he wants to keep it like that. When the Gryffindors and Slytherins are placed together for Defence Against the Dark Arts classes and made to face a boggart it will surely end badly... Harry x Draco slash
1. Chapter 1

**Unusual Fears**

**Summary:** Nobody knows what Draco fears and he wants to keep it like that. When the Gryffindors and Slytherins are placed together for Defence Against the Dark Arts classes and made to face a boggart it will surely end badly. Harry x Draco (slash)

**Author:** SilVeR-EyeS-93

**Rating**: Not sure about the rating for this piece... will probably contain slash, don't like it, don't read it, it's as simple as that. I'll call it a **T...**

**Pairings:**Harry/Draco

**Disclaimer:** I don't own this yadda yadda yadda. I don't own Harry Potter or the characters or anything else.

Now on with the story!!

Unusual Fears

It was good to be Draco Malfoy. As I walked towards the Defence against the Dark Arts room, the hordes of queuing students parted like a group of frightened house elves... Or like when that muggle man who managed to part the Red sea ages ago. Blaise, Pansy and I had bagged our usual desks at the very back of the room and were just beginning to get our books out when the others started to file in.

I had already made up my mind that this year I would try much harder in this subject and to improve my grades. Father would be so proud of me by the time of the OWLs rolled around that he would be practically singing my praises. Well...that was until I found out whom the teacher was... And moreover, who we had our classes with.

Gryffindors, we were sharing this class this year with the Gryffindors. Throwing together a group of Lions with a group of Snakes certainly was not the best plan idea that Dumbledore has ever had. Potions was bad enough without curses being thrown about too. Ah, yes... There was the golden trio now. Led by Potter they took seats to the left of ours, obviously favouring the back as much as us. This surprised me a little, as those three were suppose to be representations of all that was good and pure – surely these little boffins would want a front row seat in learning defence.

Dumbledore had reemployed the werewolf this year, which obviously proved how slim the pickings were for Defence against the Dark arts teacher.

As he entered the classroom and threw done his battered briefcase I gave a suffering long sigh. He looked as ratty and as untidy as I seemed to remember, perhaps a few more patches on his robes than before. The years had obviously done nothing to improve his visage. It seemed that the sixth year of my schooling, (like the third,) would be taken up with the scruffy man once again. I rolled my eyes... every hope I had of raising my grade had gone completely out the window.

After a good ten minutes I realized I had not taken in a word he had said since entering the room. The quill that I was stroking through my fingers commanded much more of my attention than what the werewolf did at any rate. I thought leisurely back to third year when Snape had ousted his hairy little secret at dinner. I half wish I could have seen the look on my father's face when whatever associate of his passed on the news. When it is not directed at mother or me, watching father fly into one of his characteristic rages is highly entertaining. For once, I may actually understand the point of one of these little fits of fury. Having a half-breed for a teacher is disgusting...Hagrid barely counts as a half-breed as I tend to think of him as rather less than human...

Although my chances at being an O grade student dashed, I supposed I should pay attention all the same. I set my quill down rather reluctantly.

"Now, I've been looking back over the work that all of your year's classes have been doing in Defence against the Dark Arts," Lupin waved a piece of parchment cheerily for us all to see. "It's sad to see the dramatic decrease in marks since I last left you," he did not sound very sad. If it was anyone other than the scruffy werewolf I would almost say he sounded smug.

"On this page are your test scores from the previous exam that we did together in your third year. I see that many of you did not gain very high results on this particular test." He eyes flickered towards mine for a split second before continuing to look around the room.

Ah yes... I remembered that test well. The aftermath of this particular failure had resulted in a vicious lecture from my father. An 'Acceptable' wasn't that bad though was it? I only messed up on that nasty little marsh creature that persuaded me to wade waist high into mud. Consequentially this meant that I did not get to finish the rest of the exam therefore forfeiting many marks...Stupid Hinkypunk.

"We are going to split the test up into areas of particular difficulty and do a recap for each spell or procedure each lesson..."

Oh joy. Here I was thinking we may actually get to learn something this year instead of recapping three years worth of crap.

"The part that most of you failed at during the exam happened to be fighting off the effects of the boggart. As this requires quite a lot of mental concentration, I have decided that this is what today's lesson should consist of. We'll repeat the exercise and have a warm up first."

Lupin was smiling at all of us happily as though he had just professed to give us a great treat. If this was his idea of a pleasant surprise, I sure as fuck did not want to get on his bad side...

"First of all I want you to close your eyes..."

Rolling my eyes at Blaise who grinned back at me sardonically, I did so with bad grace, rolling my eyes at Blaise who grinned back at me sardonically. The last time our class, along with the Ravenclaws, had been forced to confront the boggart both I, Blaise and several others had all professed to be ill, dashing out of the class hurriedly. Not even the after effects of the class where everyone gushed at how good the lesson had been had changed my mind for one instant.

I can deal with fear as long as it is on my own terms. For me fear is all about being in the moment. If an occasion inspires genuine fear within me I can, (in most cases,) find ways to deal with it effectively and privately. Not in front of the whole class though...not in front of the werewolf, and certainly not in front of the golden trio.

"Think of the thing that scares you the most..."

I tried desperately to think, knowing this was the last chance before nightmares became reality. Plenty of things scared me, none of which I felt like sharing. But which one scared me the most? I had never really considered it before.…

"And try to find a way to make it amusing..."

What a bloody impossible task this was turning out to be! I cracked my eyes open a fraction to look around at everyone else. Blaise was clenching his fist tight upon the desk making his knuckles stand out under the tanned skin. I thought sadly that he must be thinking about his father. We've shared a dormitory for too long not to be familiar with each other's nightmares...

Pansy was wearing the same look upon her face that she got whenever she looked at a particularly ugly insect. Her pouty lips were moving quietly and I managed to catch something along the lines of "squash them all with the heel of my boot – horrible little buggers..."

"Ok, and open your eyes everybody..."

What – no wait! I hadn't chosen! Though, I thought with a sinking heart, even if I had had another week or two to mull it over I would still be left wondering. I gave myself a mental shake. I had had since third year to think about this – why was I coming up blank now? All I could think was that the boggart would be spoiled for choice in my case, an unlimited amount of fears to call upon at will.

"Harry, would you like to go first?" asked Professor Lupin warmly, gesturing at the travelling case he had brought along which was shaking slightly.

And Here I was thinking that he wouldn't play favourites. If the werewolf was biased... I was royally screwed.

Potter nodded his head looked pleasantly determined. He obviously knew what form his boggart would take was going to turn into. Instead of watching the golden boy show off for the class, I decided to use the time available to concentrate on my own fear. Just as I was casting my mind about, trying to isolate one particularly nasty phobia, Blaise nudged me in the ribs and put his lips up to my ear.

"I heard that Potter got full marks in that test," he whispered. "I only got 80%! How about you Draco?"

"62%," I said uncomfortably, my eyes fixed on Potter's back. Maybe by watching the boy wonder I could pick up some useful tips...

Blaise grinned at me before he settled back in his seat to survey Potter like the rest of the class.

"Now," said Lupin who seemed to be rather looking forward to this lesson...much more than could be said for me I'm sure. "We're going to practice this under test conditions alright? Each person who fights the boggart will be doing so alone to start with. No input from the rest of you, understand? If you cannot fight the boggart back after four or five attempts, I will intervene. Harry, it's all yours..."

Potter stepped up to the packing case as Lupin undid the latch closing it. Several people gasped and Longbottom tripped backwards over a chair as a Dementor rose out of the case. One slimy hand was reaching forwards; the other had risen to its hood.

It was going to touch Potter with that hand! The dead decaying flesh was coming closer and closer to his face while the other was now clenching around the hood about to pull it down.

"Riddikulus!" Potter shouted flicking his wand at the Dementor floating in front of him.

I watched in relief as the rotting robes that held the creature transformed in one fluid motion to become a light pink ball gown. It reminded me slightly of what Pansy had worn when I had taken her in forth year to the Yule ball in fourth year... The thought made me smile in spite of myself.

I hadn't even realized that one of my hands had balled into a fist while watching Potter face his fear. I loosened it hastily and flexed my fingers.

"God he's good," Blaise whispered in a disappointed undertone. His words were masked by the barrage of laughter emanating from the class as the pink dress clad Dementor stumbled about in confusion. "I was half hoping –"

"Excellent Harry!" called Professor Lupin over the noise and I felt my features twist into a scowl. Of course, Potter would do it perfectly. "Blaise Zabini – you next please!"

Blaise nudged my arm and smirked as he got up. "Let me show you how it's done Draco," he whispered. I smirked and kicked him.

As the sightless Dementor turned its rotting sallow face upon Blaise, its features seemed to melt and distort. A dark skinned man was standing before the class, black eyes fixed intently on Blaise. I felt a stab of pity for him which was soon replaced with molten terror. What if the Dementor turned into my father before the whole defence against the dark arts class when it was my turn?

"Is that Mr. Zabini?" asked Pansy quietly as she scooted up along the bench to be closer to me. "The one he has nightmares about?" Her face was a picture of sympathy and sadness as we both let our eyes stray to where our friend was standing, his wand shaking, in the middle of the room. The man was shouting random things all at once, a combination of things such as "disgrace to the family name!" and "Don't know how I can even call you my son!"

Blaise's face was beginning to flush and he raised his wand unsteadily. "Riddikulus!" he yelled but the man laughed at him coldly.

"You always were useless, you pathetic blood traitor! Not even an ounce of talent in your miserable being –"

"Something funny Blaise, come on," Pansy whispered frantically, gripping my hand so hard I feared it might break. I too was finding it difficult to watch one of my best friends be shouted at and humiliated in front of the rest of the class. Said class were looking uneasy as Blaise's father leant in close to his face and hissed in a voice of pure hatred, "I wish you'd never been born..."

"RIDDIKULUS!"

Mr. Zabini's robes transformed into an all in one cat suit; the red and orange stripes doing nothing for his image. Blaise looked faintly amused alongside his partly traumatized expression and he abandoned his extremely unfashionable father (who was plucking at the material looking mortified) to sink back into his seat between myself and Pansy.

"See," he said shakily, punching me on the shoulder. "P-Piece of cake..." I laughed while Pansy patted him consolingly on the back.

"Weasley – forward!"

Weasley's irrational fear of spiders was dealt with almost immediately; the roller skates conjured making it slip and slide in all directions. I had to roll my eyes at the shear idiocy of it. Surely, Weasley, being a Harry Potter groupie and present at several life-endangering moments had something to fear bigger than spiders... If that is all he had to worry about, he was going to live a long and happy life.

"Parkinson!"

Pansy's determined face made me feel immensely proud. Both Blaise and I gave her a little nudge and a few murmurs of "good luck," before she stood before the erratic spider.

The spider shifted and convulsed before becoming...

An Inferius.

Well that was a shock. Here I was thinking we would see a cockroach meandering towards us and instead we get a dead wizard. I began to stand up, intending to tug her back, cast a spell, anything to get her away from the corpse that was walking blindly towards her. Blaise placed a hand on my shoulder to hold me down. "Don't," he hissed as he applied more pressure. "We don't want her to fail!"

Pansy's face was smoothly calculating as she said clearly: "Riddikulus!"

A silver dagger impaled itself in the chest of the Inferius and Pansy giggled quietly as the dead body looked at her with baleful eyes. The class was deadly silent, seemingly horrified by the weird nature of my friend. Blaise turned towards me with raised eyebrows and a wry smile.

"We'll have to keep an eye on that one," he stage whispered and the class seemed to breathe again.

"Um, well done Miss Parkinson!" said Professor Lupin, obviously disturbed but covering it well with a huge smile. He had written up Potter's, Weasley's, Blaise's and Pansy's names upon the board with a number next to each.

"What do the numbers mean?" I asked Pansy who had slipped into the seat next to me.

"Number of tries I think," she said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear blithely. "I can't believe I did it in one go! I'm beating you Blaise!"

Longbottom's boggart of Snape, transfigured into a short black leather dress complete with feather boa and fingerless gloves was not as amusing as it should have been. I allowed myself one very forced laugh before sinking back into my state brooding.

Neither Theo's coursework on fire nor Millicent's fear of toads could make me crack a smile. I hardly deserved to laugh at them when my own amount of humiliation lay in their hands.

Students continued to file past to face the boggart. I suppose I should have been paying more attention...father would be disappointed to learn that here I was with a cast iron excuse to pry into each and every person's worst fear and to exploit it and yet...

I laughed only half-heartedly as Granger's pathetic boggart of professor McGonagall screeched loudly about all the subjects she had failed to pass. I was beginning to feel sicker and sicker with every passing student.

The resentment for my classmates was building up in my throat like bile making me want to run from the room. How did the Patil girl transform the snake so easily into a muggle toy? How did Weasley conjure roller blades for the spider? This required a different type of quick thinking to the one I was used to. It was one thing to reply in verbal battle with a sharp and cutting remark, quite another to summon an amusing image from thin air.

"Malfoy, you're up!"

Oh Merlin! Most people in the room (Gryffindors) had all turned to use my own smirk against me. Oh how I was starting to regret my mocking behaviour of their antics. Perhaps if I had kept my head down a little more this year the resulting laughter for these next actions would be slightly less. Too late now though with all the Gryfindork's leers aimed in my direction...

"Draco, sweetie, are you alright?" Pansy inquired, nudging me when I did not move.

I realized what I must look like, frozen in place like a statue while the class waited impatiently for me to take my turn. The word 'pathetic' sprang to mind.

"Come on Ferret, shift your skinny arse!" Weasley yelled from the back of the room and the class twittered appreciatively. I made sure to scowl at him thoroughly. While I was going through the procedure of glaring at the golden trio my eyes lighted upon Potter who was grinning like a loon. What was his problem? Oh...right. Probably the fact that I mocked him for being scared of Dementors in our third year. Or because I constantly insulted him and his friends. Or maybe even because the look on my face was priceless, the look that Pansy likes to call 'scared shitless'.

Maybe the insult that Weasley had so lovingly thrown in my direction could be useful. Perhaps I feared being turned back into a ferret? That would certainly be easier to deal with as most of my peers were regrettably familiar with this unfortunate event in forth year... I began wishing fervently that it was not worse than seeing myself being turned once again into a small rodent.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

'I'm coming you stupid mutt!' I felt like yelling at him. Why were they all putting me under so much pressure? I would surely explode with tension before I even reached the boggart.

As hesitantly as I dared, I rounded the desk with deliberate slowness. Walking towards Finnegan's previously discarded snake boggart felt like walking to the gallows. I was just out of range for it to change shape but close enough to see the smooth shiny scales of the boa constrictor. Way too close, in my opinion.

I twisted my head around to see the rest of the class just to check that no one was laughing at me. Blaise gave me a discreet thumbs up and Pansy gave an encouraging nod forwards. These moments of comfort were shattered of course when Weasley called from the back "Get on with it, you coward!" Potter elbowed him in the ribs, which I was thankful for...yet confused. There was no time to think about that now. This was it.

Do or die.

I stepped up to face the boggart.

It began to spin, faster and faster, a mess of blurry shapes and images, trying to pick out my fear. The class behind me was muttering gleefully, clearly thrilled at finding out Draco Malfoy's worst fear...

Obviously trying to turn it into a ferret with sheer will power was not going to cut it. Nothing resembling a white rodent seemed forthcoming much to my chagrin.

The transformation stopped abruptly and I gazed in shock at what the snake had transformed into. I was standing absolutely still staring at...

Myself. The exact mirror image of me. He stood two feet away from me, exactly a complete replication same, down to the very last hair. I felt my mouth drop open in surprise and felt creeped out when my clone did not copy the action. This was like looking in a mirror...and having your reflection defy you. The only thing that seemed about accurate was the look of borderline terror on my face. But no, perhaps that was not quite true. My double looked as though he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, biting down hard on his lip and gripping a wand in a slightly sweaty hand.

The left sleeve of his robes had been pushed back (or had it been torn off?) to reveal a pitch-black skull and snake tattoo, twisting and writhing on pale flesh.

I felt like screaming now. I knew what this scene reminded me of, and if it was at all like my memory promised, it was sure to be unpleasant. I had had this recurring nightmare for as long as I could remember...ever since I had first heard the word 'Death Eater'. It was my promised fate from birth, following me from the cradle right into the inner circle of the Dark Lord's supporters. Blaise had woken me many times from this night time terror and I did not dare to glance at him now. My whole attention was fixed on my double.

Now being fully able to appreciate what was coming I raised my wand arm quickly. Fuck. What was that incantation again?

I could hear the whispers behind me as clear as day all of them speculating as to my fear. Did I fear showing weakness? Did I fear being afraid? I allowed myself an internal splutter of hysterical laughter. Afraid of being afraid? That was much too noble for me. My fear was much more run of the mill...much more than common in the circles I had been brought up to associate myself in.

What to hell was that incantation?

"My Lord," my voice was cracked and hoarse and, to my great embarrassment, nothing short of pleading. "My Lord I beg you! I am faithful; I have always been faithful to you..." The eyes of my twin face were extremely wide, too huge for the pasty face.

Think about the spell – what was the spell?

"Liar..." The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It appeared to come from the walls themselves, reverberating around the room and going through my heart like a stake.

The voice of the Dark Lord.

There were many gasps and shrieks from behind me as Voldemort's voice rang through the classroom but none seemed louder than that of my boggart. The tiny intake of panicked breath through numb white lips was enough to send an electric charge though my blood. It chilled me.

"Crucio..."

Said almost lovingly, the curse hit me in the chest and in a second, I was on the floor screaming. The scream was that of a man on fire, a man doomed to die. I remembered the feeling of a thousand knives on my skin, a white-hot poker pressed to the flesh of my forearm. A feeling akin to nothing else...a feeling worse than everything else...

I stood incredibly still watching as my boggart crumpled to the floor and curled up, moaning and screaming. The scream was too high and penetrating, a shrill note I did not even realize I was capable of.

It is strange to see yourself tortured... you can see your body writhing; crying and yelling but feel nothing but shock. Seeing my body shuddering and jerking was starting to pull at my nerves now and though it could not have been more than a minute since my go began, it felt like hours.

"Riddikulus!" I have no idea where I managed to pull that word out of but I was far from complaining.

CRACK!

Boggart Draco had disappeared to be replaced with... Another boggart Draco. Was I to reoccur in all my fears? This time was different though... at the feet of my duplicate were other bodies, dead, unmoving, lifeless... My mother stared up at me with empty eyes, her head resting on Blaise's unmoving chest.

There was obviously nothing funny I could make out of that! Moving on...

"Riddikulus!"

CRACK!

Harry Potter lay in front of my shiny black school shoes, a mess of blood and exposed flesh. Arms, legs and other vital parts seemed mangled and pointing in the wrong directions, like they had been snapped one by one. Gashes were decorating the neck and face like it had been slashed at with a cutting jinx. Harry Potter – the-boy-who-lived, the golden boy, the defender of the weak and needy – was dead at my feet.

It was all I could do not to be sick. I felt an acidic taste fill my mouth and my stomach churn violently. Please don't let me be sick on Harry Potter's body...

Nothing in the whole world could make this situation amusing. Nothing. Perhaps if Potter sprang up from his slumped state of gory death and yelled 'SURPRISE!' – but maybe not even then.

Lupin seemed to finally deemed it time to intervene. He stood close enough by my side that his toes touched Potter's bloody and broken fingers. I looked away in shame as the body of my enemy began to spin in dizzying circles before transforming into a full moon. I could not help begrudging Lupin's easy phobia compared to my own complicated fears.

I was determined not to over analyze my Potter related fear just yet. I would think about that when my stomach settled. If my stomach ever settled. I doubted I would ever feel normal again after this.

This was a terrible lesson. No wonder my grades were far from perfect. From that moment on, I swore to pledge my allegiance to the noble art of potion making.

Allegiance – I winced at the word. I no longer wanted to pledge my allegiance to anything or anyone. It reminded me so vividly of the vow of commitment that I was soon to make, one which came with a complimentary tattoo.

I barely noticed as Professor Lupin summoned the boggart back into the packing case or as Pansy stood up to usher me back to my seat. I really didn't notice as my friends asked my repeatedly if I was alright. What I did notice with my wholehearted attention was the expression on Potter's face.

He was staring at the floor where his body had been just moments before. His face betrayed nothing but shock. I wished, just for a moment, that I could look at his eyes. He really did have the most expressive eyes I've ever seen. He was a Gryffindor through and through, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. I was sure that if I could just look into his eyes I would find...what? Disgust? Horror? Intrigue? Whatever he was feeling could not be a shadow of the confusion warring away inside of me that was for sure.

Even as I chanted this wish inside my head, Potter's eyes flicked onto my own. Oh yes...confusion. And shock, a lot of shock. The look was appraising, questioning, like he was about to march right up and confront me this second.

Not being able to hold the look for even a second, I looked away first. I wished I hadn't. It made me feel somehow guilty, like I had let myself down by backing away first.

Glancing around for something else to look at, my eyes found the chalkboard. My name was the only one with a large white '3' next to it. For ever onwards I would have to look upon the number three with as much scorn and contempt as possible. Number three – the number of shame.

Father would be so displeased... Maybe if I angled the story to make it seem as if the werewolf's teaching that was to fault the blow would be only slightly less.

I tried not to look at Potter's giant chalky number 'one' as it felt like a bludger to the stomach. Always, always, better than me. Why should I even be surprised that he got a 'one'? That's what Harry Potter was, wasn't it...Number one. Top dog. Golden boy.

I could barely hear the werewolf congratulate the class (and tactfully forget to mention my glorious fuck up) as my ears were ringing.

"Crucio, Crucio, Crucio, Crucio, Crucio!" The ring in my ears sounded like the singsong version of the curse almost as if it were said by...

Oh Merlin... (I banged my head on the desk vigorously) ...the last thing I wanted to think about now was Aunt Bellatrix. I was damn lucky that the boggart did not become her given the fact that she scares me shitless...

"...Class dismissed!"

I bolted out of my chair as the words left his lips, stuffing my books randomly into my bag, not caring for bending the covers or breaking the spines. I just had to get out of there.

The fact that Pansy was calling after me sounding worried was unimportant.

The fact that Lupin was gazing at me with pity in his eyes never crossed my mind.

The fact that Potter's eyes followed me as I rushed across the room definitely did not make my heart lurch in a funny way.

No. The door - the wonderful, wooden, unreachable door – so close, so close...

Of course, I probably would have reached it a whole lot faster had I not tripped over the trailing strap of my own school bag and went sailing head first into the wall.

The last thing I saw before falling unconscious was Harry Potter's furrowed brow, (which did not completely disguise the amused expression on his face) leaning over me. Honestly, how could this day get any worse?

TBC....


	2. Incorrect Conclusions

Thanks to my Beta **Bigreenwivy **for sending this back and forth to me endlessly!

**Chapter 2 – Incorrect conclusions **

_The last thing I saw before falling unconscious was Harry Potter's furrowed brow, (which did not completely disguise the amused expression on his face) leaning over me. Honestly, how could this day get any worse?_

~ O ~

Imagine the worst thing you could possibly wake up to and then times it by ten.

If you are anything like me then this 'something' will probably include the boy-who-lived hanging over you like a rain cloud. That, I'm afraid, is exactly what I woke up to.

The green of his eyes was burning into mine like acid, making me moan in protest then shut my eyes again. Potter. Stupid, arrogant, horribly perfect Potter...was here? And wait…where exactly was here?

"Madame Pomfrey, I think he's awake..." Potter's voice made my ears ring, the sound of it too loud and much too close. Why was he that close to me anyway? If the world were at all fair, he should have been very far away from me, preferably at least a few miles.

I intended to tell him, in no uncertain terms, to get away from me but he withdrew too quickly for me to do so.

"...that's right, back off, and if you ever go near him again I'll hex your brains out Potter!" the growling female voice began to penetrated my consciousness. Her voice grew slowly louder and louder until I recognised the snarling tone. Potter held up his hands in surrender and disappeared from my line of sight.

Ah, Pansy...and Blaise too judging by the soft rhythmic beat being made by someone's a tapping foot. Trust them two to rescue me from Potter's presence. Even if Blaise was a sarcastic bastard and Pansy was a sharp-tongued prickly little witch, I still felt a certain amount of affection for them both.

"Draco?" Pansy was bobbing over me concernedly, her hands absentmindedly smoothing down imaginary creases in my robes. "Are you ok?"

I nodded in affirmation even though, no, I was not ok, as I had run headfirst into a wall, which was _embarrassing._ "Sure I am."

I sat up in the heinously white hospital bed and realised that the colour of the sheets was not the only thing that was painful. My head felt clouded and heavy as if I had at least two rounds of alcohol sloshing around up there.

"Why didn't you just _enervate_ me Miss?" I asked groggily as Madame Pomfrey bustled past my bed and shooed Pansy out of the way. She was busy filling up a beaker with a suspicious looking purple potion that I was obviously supposed to drink. I could tell she hadn't used _Enervate_ as the spell didn't leave an after effect like a hangover. When I asked the question, she turned stern eyes on me and I shrank back a little. Merlin, how did that woman make me feel like I had done something wrong with just a look?

"That spell, Mr. Malfoy, is used to revive unconscious victims of the stunning spell, certainly not to force awake schoolchildren who have sustained concussions and nasty bruises!"

God...sorry that I asked.

On second thought, maybe it was a good thing they hadn't awoken me in a class full of watchful and nosey students. That would just have been too much. Even the thought of just my friends and Potter seeing me faint made me blush furiously. Speaking of Potter...

He was still sitting there, exactly where he had been before, fiddling with a stray thread on his robes. His face was averted but his eyes kept flicking back over to my bed as though he was afraid to look. Was I that badly bruised that I was attracting stares from the boy-who-lived?

My hand fumbled near my forehead, gently pressing down on the skin and letting out a little moan as a sharp throb went through my skull. So there was a huge great whopping bruise on my forehead. Perfect.

"Anything in particular you wanted Potter?" I asked as venomously as I could, which consequentially wasn't very venomously. His green eyes were trying to catch mine but I kept my gaze determinedly averted elsewhere. No way was he going to guilt trip me into looking at his eyes and spilling my guts to hell. No _way_!

"Yes." His voice was steely now as if he had made up his mind about something. The word seemed to have been bitten out as if in anger and I wished badly that he would leave me alone.

I raised my eyebrows in the characteristic universal sign for 'well?' though still not looking at him.

"Do I even have to ask?" he retorted, and I saw him lean forwards in his chair in my peripheral vision. "Isn't it obvious what explanation you owe me?"

I spluttered in indignation to buy some time as my face heated up to an almost unbearable level. Me give an explanation to Potter? That was unlikely, especially as I knew no more about it than he did.

The leg of the bedside table had never held so much appeal as a fascinating thing to look at as it did just then.

"Potter," Pansy barked out, and I recognised the edge in her voice at once. It was the one strictly reserved for people who got on her last nerve, and was laced with venom and warning. "Can't you see that Draco doesn't want to breathe the same air as you, let alone talk to you?"

Ah Pansy...what would I do without you? Even if it was slightly humiliating to have a girl fight my battles for me, I couldn't have picked a better warrior.

"I mean, so what if he's absolutely terrified of you dying?"

Oh Merlin help me. How was I ever so stupid as to think it was a wise move to let Pansy speak for me?

"You are so inappropriate Potter!" she continued and I felt my jaw drop open in disbelief. "Here he is lying on his hospital bed and you think it's ok to pester him with obviously embarrassing questions! Save it Potter; back off back to Gryffindor Tower like a good little lion."

If the words hadn't been so disturbingly childish and mortifying, the patronising tone would have been impressive.

Blaise's lips were pressed firmly together as if trying to stem the flow of laughter longing to break free. As if I hadn't had enough people laughing at me for one day...

"Go on Potter – scram!" Pansy was waving her arms about in energetic shooing gestures that made me want to bury my head in the pillow and scream. Why, God, Why?

Ever get the feeling that karma is out to kick your arse? Well that's how I feel most of the time when I happen to be around Scarhead.

A fleeting look at Potter revealed exactly what I didn't want to see. His face, like Blaise's, betrayed the fact he was trying to hold in laughter. He's not laughing at you, I tried to remind myself. He's laughing at your idiotic best mate who is trying and _failing_ to defend your honour.

"Get out Potter," I hissed, finally turning to stare at him angrily. How dare he laugh at my friends? How dare he laugh at _me_? "Get - out."

He stopped laughing and his face relaxed back into the stubbornly determined look he had worn before. "No," he said, and there was no smile on his lips this time. "I want to talk to you."

"Well he doesn't want to talk to you!" said Pansy before I could answer. Damn it. Maybe a muzzle would be a good investment...

Potter let out a frustrated sigh, which for some reason was making my pulse jump erratically. I supposed this was simply an after effect of the concussion.

"Come off it Malfoy! Just tell me what –"

"Mr. Malfoy! Why are you sitting up in bed? Drink that potion now or so help me I will pour it into your protesting mouth!" Saved by the witch. Madame Pomfrey glared daggers at me from across the hospital wing as the vile of purple potion sat untouched upon my nightstand.

I downed it like it was a shot of firewhiskey. The stinging aftertaste that came with it was not dissimilar to that of the alcohol.

"Fine," Potter muttered dejectedly, his eyes narrowing. I felt the triumph of having avoided confrontation well up inside of me. "Whatever. Don't think I'm going to let this go Malfoy but some of us actually have places to be." He was standing up to leave.

The relief that had so quickly come after he had given up was instantly extinguished. He was leaving? Just like that? Of course, it was a good thing to have the room Potter-free once again but... I don't know. It made my stomach feel tight.

As the door to the hospital wing clicked shut behind him, Pansy turned to me expectantly.

"Well?" she asked impatiently, pinching me on the arm when a reply was not imminent. "Tell us about the Potter boggart!"

I fell back onto the pillows with a groan as Blaise erupted into laughter. What excellent friends I had.

~ O ~

"I'm telling you it was nothing!" I hissed for the hundredth time as we trudged along the charms corridor on our way back from the hospital wing. "The boggart must have been confused or something."

"Boggarts don't get confused," said Blaise wickedly. After Pansy had badgered me persistently about the details of my boggart Blaise had had to pry her away from me. He had been laughing at odd intervals ever since. At least someone found this situation hilarious.

"Well this one did," I argued stubbornly. That stupid Boggart had no idea what it was doing, showing me Potter's horrifically mangled corps. As if that could ever worry me! As if that image would be burned onto my retinas forever! As if it would haunt me. Honestly... What a stupid Boggart. I hated Potter.

"The boggart also reflected my pain and the death of those closest to me. What's weird about that?" I asked dismissively, trying to convince myself as much as I was them.

"The fact that after those fears it was _the-boy-who-lived_ plastered all over the floor should be a subtle clue that something is wrong Draco," said Pansy worriedly.

A group of Ravenclaw girls walked past us in the opposite direction, giggling behind their hands and turning to look back at us as we disappeared around the corner.

"I'm going to kill Potter," I growled out as the girlish laughter could still be heard. "This is – entirely – his – fault!"

"To kill him you would have to actually go near him. That is something I assume you obviously do not want to do as you're putting all your effort into avoiding him." Blaise pointed out.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said with a sniff. "It's not as if I'm hiding from Potter!" how could he even suggest that? Malfoys don't hide. We're not cowards, damn it!

"That's good because look - there he is..."

I yelped in a very un-Malfoy-ish way. As quickly as humanly possible, I leapt behind a statue of the one eyed witch, retreating into the shadows as much as possible. I peered around the hump. Merlin knows I'd had enough of Potter today to last me until the end of the year. It was only as Blaise's guffaws drifted to my ears that I realised I had been played. I stomped out from behind the statue and gave Blaise my best icy glare.

"That's not even funny!" I seethed.

He continued to laugh. He was now running as fast as he could down the corridor, away from the murderous look that I was trying in vain to freeze him with. I gave chase, sprinting after him all the way up to the Slytherin common room. Pansy soon fell behind.

He got to the common room first and slammed the portrait in my face. Scowling and panting heavily I managed to spit out "Woodbine," in between muttered profanities.

I snorted with laughter as I entered the room. Blaise's dark hair was easily discernable peeking out from behind the soft green of the sofa. I allowed myself one more derisive bout of breathless laughter before I pounced.

The tussle that ensued lightened my heart considerably. It reminded me of all of our collective years at Hogwarts, from scuffles we had had over girls, (very rare and few between,) to wrestling over the last chocolate frog (far more frequent). Grappling with Blaise made everything seem ten times funnier somehow and when he ended up pinning me to the floor with my arms above my head I was still letting loose little gasping laughs.

He was straddling my hips to keep me down and the grip on my wrists felt like steel. I was a shamefully small seventeen-year-old wizard.

"So," Blaise said conversationally as though we had not just spent the last few minutes trying to bite and scratch each other. Well ok, I'll admit that I was the one doing most of the biting and scratching. I have no other assets alright?

"Since when have you had a crush on Potter?"

Every muscle in my body froze. Did he just say... Did he just imply... He didn't... did he?

It reminded me of a similar brawl we had had another time where he had used the same line opener but with the name 'Pansy'. As if I had a crush on Pansy! Merlin no... Everybody could see that Blaise was infatuated with her...

"W-What?" I managed to croak as I felt the familiar burn spread across my cheeks. "Me, have a crush on... how can you possibly..."

"Oh stop pretending!" he was grinning down at me now, the impressively white teeth bared. "It's so obvi–"

"You are deluded," I ground out, making more of an effort to extricate myself from his tight hold. It's such a shame strength has never been my strong point...

"Come off it Draco!" he laughed, not moving an inch against my futile attempts to throw him off. "Your Boggart said everything there was to say!" When I continued to look incredulous to the point of traumatised, he went on.

"The first thing you feared was the Dark Lord finding out you were disloyal to him – what comes higher than lusting after the-boy-who-lived?"

Thanks for those disturbing mental images of Potter, Blaise. As if I would ever be lusting over him...

I shook my head frantically while also glancing around the place to make sure we were the only ones in the common room. (We were).

"Your second fear was seeing your family killed. Your mother, your father, your grandparents... oh and thanks for including me in there too. I was starting to think that you telling me that I was 'like a brother to you' was just a line...

"But why oh why would the albino bad arse fear seeing Harry Potter dead?"

'The albino bad arse' was Blaise's affectionate nickname for me. I loathed it.

"The Boggart was confused," I gasped, still wriggling madly to get free. "It made a mistake!"

"It could be that," Blaise conceded with a sigh. "But that doesn't explain why you leapt about a foot in the air when I mentioned his name earlier. Or in the hospital where you flushed so red I thought you were going to burst into flames – a bit like you're doing now... and you probably don't realise this but you do have this weird little quirk where you compare things to Potter."

Remind me to get some new friends.

"'Honestly, if he was any worse at potions he'd be in league with Potter!' 'Close your mouth Zabini, you look like Potter.' 'Wow, look at that girl's arse! It looks exactly like –"

"I never said that!" I said loudly, trying to shut him up. Perhaps I did compare a few things to Potter.

"I'm not in love with him!" I shrieked and took advantage of Blaise's slightly slackened grip to throw him off of me. He was still looking strangely triumphant for someone who had just landed on his arse.

"Who said anything about love?" he murmured wickedly.

Oops. That would be me then.

I guess I set myself up for that one didn't I? It was just a slip of the tongue. I know Blaise thinks he's a genius by trying to psychoanalyse me but really...it's not what he thinks.

I couldn't find anything whatsoever to say to his previous comment. Denying it, just didn't work with Blaise. Ignoring it, just fuelled his desire to pry further into the situation. Great... So all that was left was acceptance then.

"I hate you Blaise Zabini." Was all I managed to utter before he leapt to his feet and began to dance around me wildly, letting out loud exclamations that sounded along the lines of "My little albino has finally grown up! I'm so proud!"

I resisted reaching for my wand with pure inner strength and the knowledge that once Blaise was asleep I would string him up by his ankles... That and that my wand had rolled away during the fight.

I supposed in a way I could handle Blaise mocking me. I had grown use to it after sleeping in the same room as him for the last six years. As hard as it was to believe at that moment, I knew that once this crazy erratic version of Blaise cooled off, I would have my sturdy, reliable and comforting Blaise back. Yes, I could handle it. What I could not handle was...

"How the hell did you two run so bloody fast?"

Pansy pushed the portrait open and stepped inside looking sullen. I was surprised she could walk at all let alone run after us, given the three-inch high stiletto heels she was wearing. A small smile formed on her lips as she spotted Blaise's crazy movements that now resembled a rain dance. Oh, how I missed the sanity of life outside of the dungeons sometimes...

"Pansy – guess what new revelation has just been unearthed!"

Like watching a train wreck in slow motion, I knew there was no way to stop this from happening. Even if Blaise did not tell Pansy, she was perceptive enough to come to the same, (albeit wrong,) conclusion; better to tell her now than let her go ahead with ulterior methods of...persuasion.

"It's not true," I supplied uselessly to her expectant face before hurriedly exiting the room and sprinting up to the boy's dormitory. I had only just wrenched the hangings around my bed closed when the gleeful scream of "HE'S WHAT??" echoed up from the downstairs.

Although I knew that it was near impossible to keep things from Pansy, the news still rankled that she was now in on the 'secret'. I could practically see her face now. Poor me. Pansy was the type of person who would love to have a gay best friend.

Wait a moment. What? I was beginning to act like this whole scenario was true for heaven's sake!

I pulled the covers of the bed up to my eyes and breathed deeply, trying to get my thoughts in order. The conclusions that I ended up coming to did nothing to calm my nerves.

The whole Defence against the Dark Arts class had seen my fear of Potter's death. I had failed to dispel the Boggart even after three attempts. I had ran into a wall. I had a bruise on my head. Both of my friends now thought I was gay.

Gay... I tested the word out in my mouth, whispering it to the ceiling of my canopy bed. It rolled off my tongue with difficulty and it just felt... odd. I had never once used the word in reference to myself, and only occasionally in the case of others.

"I'm not gay," I hissed out experimentally, imagining myself say it defensively to the rest of the Slytherins. Yes, it sounded better. Of course I wasn't gay.

I had never really put a lot of thought into my sexuality before. I didn't need to. It was just a given that I was straight. I was to marry and have an heir. Father had already picked out my bride though I hadn't met her. She lived in France. In my defence, she sounded lovely from the letters she wrote...

"Gay..." I whispered again. Could I be? Up until now, it had never even been a possibility.

I tried feebly to picture myself with a man on my arm instead of a girl, imagine his lips on mine instead of hers. I tried to imagine Potter with me. Potter smiling at me, Potter kissing me.

I shuddered then laughed softly to in the darkness. Potter and Malfoy together in one room was enough to cause jinxes to fly. Potter and Malfoy close enough together to touch each other? Bloodshed.

But… if Blaise was right and this weird morbid fear of Potter's death stemmed from a weird morbid physical attraction to Potter... Things would go from bad to worse.

I groaned quietly. I hated people trying to analyse me and yet here I was doing that exact thing to myself.

Tomorrow I would avoid Potter no matter what the consequences. I could not - would not - tolerate any suspicions cast upon my sexuality. If I did not answer questions about my boggart, if I didn't respond to any barbs thrown at me by the golden trio and I didn't draw any unwanted attention to myself in the next few days, hopefully, things would settle down once again.

Of course, I had not counted on the fact that I would dream of Harry Potter that night.

~ O ~

AN: thanks to anyone who left comments!

This is only my second ever story so tips and advice is always welcome (but no flames please!).

**Review or Harry and Draco will never get together... **


	3. Evasive Action

So many people have added this story to their alerts list and loads of you left reviews!! It's really exciting!!! 

Thank you, loyal reader. 

**Chapter 3 – Evasive action**

BANG!

I awoke with a start, my eyes flying open in a panic. A sound similar to a spell being thrown assaulted my ears. My right hand instinctively dart under my pillow to grip onto the wand hidden underneath. The rest of my body remained frozen.

Internally, I battled with the instinct to leap from bed and battle my way out of the room, like a Gryffindor. The true Slytherin in me prevailed demanding stealth and I allowed myself to go into possum mode.

Nothing. I was so sure I had heard...

BANG! BANG!

"Pansy - for fucks sake stop it!" a voice quietly entreated. Every muscle in my body eased upon hearing it. "You're going to break the bloody door down!"

"If you'd just open it I wouldn't have to would I?" A muffled voice shouted back.

BANG.

It was just Pansy and Blaise, of course. I wiggled further down the bed until the duvet covered my head entirely. As much as I cared for both of them, nothing and no one has the right to wake me up at an ungodly hour on the weekend. The sound of their banter carried clearly through my duvet shield.

"You know he'll skin you alive if you wake him up this early in the morning Pans, I'm technically doing this to _save_ you!"

"Let me in, I want to talk to him!"

_Not until ten o'clock_, I though wearily, as I reverted to my groggy, sleep induced state. I tried to recapture the brilliance of the dream I had been having before waking. Though I only remembered snippets of the dream, the evidence of its intensity was definitely still in my trousers. _It is far too early_.

"I'll let you in at ten O'clock," Blaise called and I smiled ruefully. It was wishful thinking to believe Pansy would leave me in bed until ten. Perhaps I should get up now before she broke down the door to our dormitory.

On second thought... due to the unfortunate circumstance that seemed to be happening in my nether regions, perhaps I should postpone getting up. Vague images of a scruffy haired boy had haunted my dreams. It seemed that visions of bespectacled Gryffindors had affected my lower anatomy considerably.

In other words, I had a raging hard on and there was no way in hell I was about to talk to Pansy. I listened to the continued verbal scuffle while trying desperately to make it subside: Snape in a corset, McGonagall wearing lingerie, Dobby in his tea cosy...

"Just let me in would you?" came the pitiful whine from behind the door. It sounded as though she had stopped throwing jinxes in favour of some good old-fashioned moaning. Whinging was a Parkinson specialty.

"Trust me Pansy; I have only your best interests at heart."

"Blaise. Door. Now."

"No way! Draco scares me a lot more than you do."

"_Blaise!_"

"Oh for God's sake!" I hissed, throwing back the curtains around my bed, unable to take any more. Oh how I hated it that both my friends were morning people. What is wrong with a little peace on the weekend?

"Draco?" asked Blaise, sounding confused. "Is that you?"

I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. "What gave me away?" I grumbled. I didn't care if my tone sounded like that of a serial killer. How could I not be grumpy with him after he and Pansy had singlehandedly destroyed my blissful Potter-related dream? It was –

Wait a second... A Potter-related dream was a bad dream, bordering on nightmare level. The role that Potter had played in my dreams should really have me scratching my eyes out. Damn Blaise for putting unwanted and positively scarring visions in my head!

He did not look deterred, only offered a weak smile.

"It's weird seeing you up before mid-day on a weekend, mate. Can't say it agrees with you." He was gesturing to my hair which I'm willing to bet resembled a birds nest.

I gave him the scowl that I reserve for those few moronic people who choose to wake me up before it is absolutely necessary. I loathed overly cheery people but it usually didn't bother me if it was Blaise. He made up for it mostly.

"I've been holding down the fort since eight," he told me with a grin as fists could be heard beating upon the wood. This is why I love Blaise. "You owe me."

"Let her in," I moaned as the banging persisted. Blaise gave me the thumbs up then mouthed "Nice knowing you." I raised a hand in weary acknowledgement of his goodbye.

The heavy oak door slowly sprang open, allowing the short excitable Slytherin girl to tumble in. Seeing her black hair in disarray and her robes slightly lopsided, I stood back for a better view. A dishevelled Pansy was not something one sees every day after all...

"Draco!"

All five foot five inches of Pansy launched at me until I had an armful of gleeful teenage girl. She was beaming at me, sunny expression obviously not put out by my wintery disapproval. See here's the thing... I can't ever seem to curb Pansy's morbid fascination with my life. Nothing I ever say or do can persuade her to just _butt out_.

Her pink lips opened as if about to fire off one hundred questions. I hastily pressed my index finger to her lips.

"I don't like boys and I don't want to shag Potter." It seemed like a good way to start the conversation, short but to the point. I withdrew my finger and wiped off the lip-gloss residue that clung to it on the bed sheets.

"Oh be quiet you, Blaise already told me!" she said, grinning at Blaise who was leaning against my bedpost smirking, out of range of Pansy's flailing arms. "I can't believe it Drake!"

"Oh my God," I said irritably to Blaise as he stood calmly surveying the scene. "She's so far gone she's forgotten my name!" Blaise chuckled softly.

It had been an ongoing feud between Pansy and I since at least second year, she insisting the nickname was 'sweet' and 'adorable' while I refused to listen. If my parents had named me Drake perhaps, I would be more understanding. Then again, perhaps not... I have perfected the art of being unreasonable.

"You should have told me D!" she continued happily.

I growled quietly. My name was short enough as it was, it did not need to be reduced to the first letter. Drake was bad enough.

"I think I really should have guessed though. A woman's intuition and all that, plus you really are the girliest guy we know. And you always take so long in the bathroom –"

"I second that!" Blaise chipped in helpfully, undoubtedly remembering the time I threw him bodily from the bathroom for intruding when I was trying to brush my teeth. I know that probably sounds irrational but come on; who likes brushing their teeth with someone spraying deodorant just a few feet away?

"Look, if you want me to apologise for doing my _hair_ –"

"Yes and your _hair_! So perfect and feminine!" she picked up a blond strand that was falling across my eyes with her fingers and giggled. "You're more of a girl than _me!_"

"Well that isn't hard," I whispered maliciously. She did not seem to hear this.

"Don't worry my moody little friend," she said, patting me on the cheek. "First we'll get you out of the closet. We will then chase down the elusive Potter." She wrapped me into a bone-crushing hug, apparently overcome with emotion. "You guys will make such a beautiful couple!"

I stared at Blaise over her shoulder silently begging for help with a horrified look. I don't think he saw me, what with his eyes misted over with tears of mirth and all.

~ O ~

It was with bad grace that I sat in the great hall that morning, pale fingers picking apart a blueberry muffin, hair sticking up at right angles. I blame the hair situation on Pansy entirely. Determined to prove that I do _not_ spend at least an hour in the bathroom every morning I rushed through my usual routine in record time leaving me clean but bedraggled looking.

"Relax Draco, it actually looks great," Pansy murmured, her hands closing around my wrists to prevent me from absentmindedly touching my hair yet again. Blaise nodded in agreement.

"Looks like you've just climbed off your broom mate."

Who were they trying to kid? Nobody could pull off this look, well maybe except for the Gryffindor seeker. This was definitely Potter's trademark not mine.

Oh. My stomach lurched unpleasantly at the mention of the name.

"Hey Draco," Theo said as he reached past me to get some toast. "What was up with you in Defence against the dark arts yesterday? Afraid you won't have anyone to argue with if Potter snuffs it?"

"Something like that, yeah." I chuckled uneasily. So nobody had forgotten it then. Great.

I tuned out to the mindless chatter for a while, staring pensively at my plate until the mention of my own name broke through my thoughts.

"Draco? Drake, are you listening to me? Do you want to come shopping with me next Hogsmeade weekend?" Pansy asked lightly as she dipped a biscuit in her tea. "We can go and buy –"

"I'm not going clothes shopping with you again," I hissed, suddenly on the defensive. I had noticed several eyes from both the Gryffindor table and my own beginning to stare at me and smirk. I hate it when other people smirk. Smirking is _my_ thing.

"I don't fancy wasting my time in changing rooms, thank you."

"But I thought you liked buying stuff... Why can't we go together?"

Seamus Finnegan, who was sitting over with the rest of the Gryfindorks, looked directly at me before grinning and pretending to stab himself with the butter knife in the chest. Though my boggart had not turned into Potter impaled upon a butter knife, the sarcastic behaviour still rankled. I wasn't afraid of any of the other Gryffindors getting hurt – Finnegan could top himself for all I cared. But Potter... not Potter. There was something so frustrating about Potter!

"I'm not your gay best friend, no matter how much you might want it!" I spat at Pansy, bringing my fist down on the table with a bang.

A few people looked around at the sound of my hand slamming on the wood but other than that, no one noticed. I regretted it immediately however when I saw Pansy's lip quiver.

"Sorry," I whispered, scooting closer to her and wrapping my arm around her small shoulders. She leant back into me and rested her head on my shoulder.

"It's ok, It's just...you're one of my best friends Draco. I'm sorry but I want to know what's going on with you. You've been acting a bit...funny."

I couldn't think of anything else to say. 'Funny' did not do justice to the mix up of confusing feelings warring within me. This wasn't suppose to happen damn it! One Defence against the Dark Arts lesson into the new term and already I was a confused mess; questioning things that I should never _ever_ examine too closely.

I picked up the largest piece of blueberry muffin on my plate and offered it to her wordlessly as way of apology. She took it in equal silence and the tension broke softly.

After a few minutes spent in relative calm I felt gentle lips brushing against my ear as Pansy leant in close to tell me something.

"Don't look now," she breathed silkily. "But the Gryffindor dream team has just arrived."

I knew I shouldn't have eaten that muffin. It was beginning to leave a rather unpleasant after taste in my mouth.

"What is he doing?" I asked quietly, keeping my eyes trained on my plate. I knew Pansy wouldn't have to ask who I meant.

"Talking to Granger and pouring honey on his porridge. Oh... They're still talking but he's looking right at you now."

"What should I do?" I whispered frantically, my eyes travelling over every surface to keep from looking straight into his eyes.

"Whatever you want," she said simply, lifting her head up off my shoulder and continuing to pick at her eggs, striking up a conversation with Blaise.

Oh no, no, no! The girl had gone from one extreme to the other! Loath as I was to admit it I found myself fervently wishing for extremely annoying advice-giving Pansy instead of coolly respectful space-giving Pansy. What was happening to me?

Concentrating extremely hard on my fork I almost jumped out of my skin when something soft brushed against the back of my hand. A beautiful snowy white owl nudged my wrist where it lay limply on the tabletop. I ignored it studiously. I got very few letters these days and those I did get did not come from as fancy an owl as this one.

"Go away," I whispered mutinously to the bird as it nipped my finger impatiently. "You've got the wrong person!" It pecked me again though this time drawing blood.

"Oh for God's sake..." It seemed the bird had a death wish. I wondered how fast it would take me to transfigure it into a pincushion. The bird seemed more than willing to bite me again however so I unfastened the scroll hastily lest it decide to take another chunk out of my hand.

_Malfoy, _The letter said.

_We need to talk so stop trying to avoid me. I'll corner you sooner or later and I'm sure you'd rather it wasn't in front of your 'friends'. HP_.

The parchment I was holding was in serious danger of being torn apart as my hands trembled in suppressed rage. How dare he threaten me? How dare he cast aspersions on my friends!

I looked up furiously, my eyes instantly met by his calm gaze from across the hall. My anger only seemed to amuse him as a small smile played across his face. Well Potter could go to hell, there was no way I was meeting with him now. I was even less inclined to do so than I had been before – and that was definitely saying something.

Something about that smile reminded me vaguely of my dream... I shuddered.

"Who's the letter from?" asked Blaise with interested as I threw the page down onto my empty plate. I batted the owl away with a nearby _Daily Prophet_. "Did your parent's get a new owl?"

I passed it across wordlessly and watched as Blaise scanned it quickly then gave it to Pansy. She handed it back with a small smirk.

"So are you going to talk to him then?" she asked excitedly.

My mouth fell open in disbelief.

"Have more faith in my evasive abilities please!" I said, stung. How long had these people known me? I was nothing if not uncooperative and elusive.

Blaise chuckled lowly. "Oh we do," he said, punching me mockingly on the shoulder. "Remember when you dumped Rachael Samuels from Ravenclaw last year? We barely saw you for at least a term!"

"Yeah well," I said moodily, irritated at the reminder of my particularly bloodthirsty ex-girlfriend. "The same thing now applies to Potter."

"It won't last long," Pansy said to Blaise as if I were not there at all. "He needs Potter's abysmal come-backs to exist. Fighting with Potter is his reason to get up in the mornings; he is the light to his dark, the Ying to his Yang..."

"Potter is his _what?_"

"Ying and Yang Blaise... it's a muggle thing."

"What does it mean?" I asked dispassionately. Pansy was oddly interested with weird spiritual magic that was both unhelpful and non-existent. Though I would never dream of telling her, she sometimes sounded a little like Trelawney when she was off in one of her mystical speeches.

"It means you complete each other. You both fit."

I smiled at her seductively.

"No Pansy, out of the two of us only one of us is fit."

Blaise spat out half his pumpkin juice as he started to laugh.

~ O ~

Pansy fussed around Blaise trying to dry his robes with napkins all the while berating his lack of self-control. Another owl fluttered down upon the tabletop in front of me.

This time however I recognised the owl in question.

"Bonjour Voltaire," I said with a grin as the bird stuck out its leg for me. After offering up the largest crumbs of muffin to the softly hooting Voltaire, I opened up the daintily folded parchment.

_Cher Draco_, the letter began and my elbow slipped a little on the tabletop. With a sigh, I refolded the letter and tucked it into the pocket of my robes for later. I should have known a letter from Cerise was overdue. What with yesterday's activities and worrying about the boggart and then on top of all of that dreaming about Potter, her letters had completely taken a backseat in my mind.

Now everything seemed to revolve around Potter.

I glanced up at the Gryffindor table again only to fall right into the trap of locking eyes with the chosen one.

I think that this is the point when the truth became apparent: Fate is out to get me. I mean come on! What were the chances that he was going to be looking at me at the same time I was looking at him? Of all the people he could have happened to be looking at in those few seconds he just _had_ to choose me, didn't he?

Oh Merlin, I was still staring. As much as the acidic green behind Potter's glasses was threatening to burn out my eyes I just couldn't stop. It was like looking at the sun – so beautiful that you can't look away.

"What did you just say?" Pansy giggled, effectively jolting me out of my Potter induced stupor.

"I didn't say anything," I said, bemused. At least the Potter-trance was over.

"Yes you did," Blaise agreed, waving a piece of toast at me to drive home the point. "You said –"

" 'So beautiful it's hard to look away...' " Pansy cut across him, looking excited all of a sudden. "You meant Potter right? You were looking at Potter!"

She reached across the table and high-fived Blaise who grinned back cheerily. I flushed.

"I don't know what you're talking – _another owl?_"

A school barn owl landed in front of me holding out a leg wearily so I could take the note attached. Why was I so bloody popular today? I usually got one letter a week, either from mother or from Cerise. Now, I was getting three in one morning.

_Draco,_ the note said as I unfurled it. _I'm sorry to have to tell you this but due to yesterday's practical in Defence against the dark arts I will seriously have to consider failing you on your grade sheet this term –_

My mouth fell open in horror. Fail? I had failed due to a stupid _boggart_? And worse... Those grade sheets were delivered to the parents. I could perfectly imagine my father's disbelieving face; the wide eyes, the slackened jaw, the curling of fingers around the handle of a wand...

_However, I am confident that all it will require is putting a bit more of an effort into practicing. If you would like a few private lessons after normal school hours where we will be able to concentrate singularly on defeating your boggart, let me know by next lesson (Monday, last period). _

Professor Lupin.

~ O ~

"I can't believe this!" I said for what must surely have been the hundredth time. "I cannot fucking _believe_ this!" I was pacing the Slytherin dormitory furiously, Lupin's letter crumpled in my hand.

"Calm down sweetie," Pansy intoned. She and Blaise sat watching me stalk up and down. "It's not as bad as your making it out to be..."

I whirled around to stare at her incredulously, checking to see if she was joking. She seemed reasonably serious.

"You can't see what's bad about being trapped in a classroom alone for an a few hours with a _werewolf,_ having to watch my family die over and over again and then watch Potter get butchered?!" I shrieked almost incoherently.

"Would you rather fail the assessment?" she asked slowly.

I let out a low growl and mumbled a few profanities.

I had absolutely no desire to fail the first Defence against the Dark Arts assessment of the term. When it boiled down to it, it really was a horrible ultimatum. The first rather unappealing option was to fail the task that any reasonably talented third year could do which would consequentially result in the wrath of my father. Alternately...I could do these extra review session thingies with Lupin.

Life was so unfair.

"Pansy, this Witch Weekly crossword thing is too fricking hard!" Blaise whined as he squinted down at the magazine balanced on his lap. "Fourteen down five letters – 'the size of cauldron preferred by all blokes'. Most wizards use the size cauldron specified in the potion recipe don't they? Or is this some sort of witch-to-witch secret code that I just don't understand?"

I didn't know whether to laugh or not at Blaise's jutting lower lip and the small crease between his eyebrows so ended up rolling my eyes. I opened my mouth intending to let loose some sort of sarcastic comment but Pansy beat me to it.

"The answer's 'large', you numbskull!" she said rolling her eyes and reaching over to mess up his hair. "That's what all wizards like isn't it? 'Bigger is better' and all of that?"

I shook my head with a smirk. Both Blaise and I had been weaning Pansy off the corruptive influence of her Saturday subscriptions to Witch Weekly ever since she had began to spout off utter rubbish about our horoscopes.

"If that's true then Draco's got no hope of getting Potter to like him – he's so fucking tiny!"

Please remind me... Why did I like Blaise again?

I scowled at Blaise thoroughly before answering. "I don't want Potter to like me," I said, beginning to pick at a hole in the hearthrug and ignoring the fact that both Pansy and Blaise rolled their eyes. "Just because of this boggart situation I don't suddenly need his approval. Besides, I'm not 'tiny' as you put it, Blaise! I'm just..."

"Fun sized!" Pansy giggled.

There was a tense silence in the otherwise empty common room before Pansy exploded into fits of laughter. She continued to splutter the words 'fun sized!' repeatedly until I completely hated those words.

"I'll show you 'fun sized'!" I yelled, leaping to my feet and darting after Pansy as she bounced around the couch away from me. The hysterical giggling did nothing to curb my murderous intentions. Fun sized indeed! I'm about as manly as you can get... embarrassingly short build and apple scented shampoo aside of course.

It took me a good ten minutes and a lot of merciless tickling of Pansy to make me tired. I was already worn out and it was barely lunchtime! This was why I stayed in bed until midday on the weekends.

"So are you going to do it then?" asked Blaise as we sat in companionable silence together; my legs across Pansy's body, Blaise's head on my knees and my face pressed into a cushion. I let out a muffled groan into the fabric.

"What did you say?"

"I guess I'll have to, won't I?" I mumbled, dejectedly. I had promised myself yesterday that today I would completely rid the unpleasant boggart episode from my thoughts. How was I possibly supposed to do that if everything and everyone was so determined to remind me of it?

At least I had a whole weekend before I had to give Lupin an answer. That gave me plenty of time to grow used to the idea. Time to mull over the idea of viewing Potter's dead body repeatedly; empty, broken, gut wrenching...

"Anyone want me to read their horoscope?" Pansy asked hopefully, her fingers inching towards the fallen magazine. Blaise snatched it up before she reached it.

"I'd rather keep my sanity intact thank you," he said firmly, earning himself a withering look. I privately agreed with him. "They're nothing to do around here! It's so bad I think I might even crack on with the homework. Can you believe Flitwick asked for a four foot essay already?"

Both Pansy and Blaise proceeded to lay their books out on the floor, quills trapped between teeth and textbooks open upon boring looking work. I couldn't bring myself to join them. It was the first Saturday back at school – no work came within touching distance on a Saturday. Instead, I drew the letter from Cerise from my pocket, unfolding it carefully and gazing down at the elegant curly script.

It sometimes annoyed me that she wrote all of her letters in French. Though I spoke it well enough to get by, it was always somewhat irksome to have to decode every letter. Her English left much to be desired, though she had begun to very slowly improve since we had been in correspondence...

It took a few seconds for me to realise that I had not taken in a single word of the letter thus far. Giving myself a little shake I began to read in earnest, my brow furrowed.

_Dear_ _Draco_, the letter began.

_It has been a while since I last heard from you, I hope everything is alright. The letter you sent last month made me laugh so much! Did you really say those things to Lady Charisa? So bold and witty of you to do so... It is good to know my husband shall be a brave man... _

I had to close my eyes for a moment after reading this. _It is good to know my husband shall be a brave man_. Cerise really didn't know anything about me at all. I wondered what she would say if she knew that at this moment in time, the gossip of my fears was passing around the castle from mouth to mouth like wildfire.

The incident to which she was referring was not, in fact, an act of bravery but purely accidental, quite humiliatingly so. Prior to my return to Hogwarts, Lady Charisa Parisian, my aunty twice removed, and Lord Adrian Parisian, my uncle twice removed, had been visiting the manor. While at dinner that evening, Father had me under strict orders. I was to be extremely courteous towards the Lord and Lady Parisian as they had high connections in the French Ministry. I intended to be the perfect host to these stuffy boring people known only to me as very distant relatives. It _really_ wasn't my fault on how badly wrong it all went.

It was during the main course of dinner that I stomached one of the foulest dishes I have ever experienced in my life – worse even than the taste of Skelegrow. I could not control my natural gag reflex, bringing up the strange brown concoction onto my plate in disgust. Of course, it was only _after_ I had spat up my food and labelled it the rankest most evil concoction I had ever had to force down my throat that Mother thought to tell me that the meat in question was generously cooked and brought over for us by the Lady Parisian herself. Oops.

I don't know how Cerise managed to draw the words 'bravery' from that but hey, I wasn't objecting. The last person to call me brave had been my Mother when I slipped off my broom and shattered most of the bones in my leg. I was five when it happened.

I huffed and skim read the rest of the letter. Some mindless fluff about her Beauxbatons friends...too much homework...parents arguing... and wait – did that say...

"Boyfriend?" I muttered, feeling more hopeful than I should at the word. My fiancé had a boyfriend who wasn't me – surely a thought that any other man would be horrified by. We had both agreed at an early stage that either of us could participate in light dating, as long as it went no further than that. Of course, this new development could come to nothing - like that of all of _my_ relationships - but all the same...there was hope. She may eventually fall in love with this French boy. As delightful as Cerise was on paper I felt no great urge to marry her.

"So how is 'Cherry' then?" asked Pansy as she leafed through a thick charms book trying to locate some obscure spell.

"Stop calling her 'Cherry'" I said vaguely, still contemplating the notion of not marrying her at all. Good Lord, Cerise had been my only option up until this point. If, by some miracle, she did call the wedding off – who would I marry? As far as arranged marriages went, I had struck gold. She was polite, funny and caring. From the photo, she was even good looking! What more could I possibly ask for?

Potter's face suddenly swam hazily in front of my eyes, with the same smile he had worn at breakfast... His cheeks dimpled when he smiled. I pushed the image away firmly. Even if I did not marry Cerise, which I probably would, marrying someone like_ him_ was impossible.

"You alright D?" asked Pansy concernedly, propping herself on an elbow to look at me.

I decided then and there that I would stop thinking about all of these 'what if's'. It was making me jumpy. Definitely time to change the subject.

"How would you like it if I called you 'P'?" I asked sarcastically.

A smile spread slowly across Pansy's face. "D, P and B!" she shrieked, pointing at me, then to herself and finally to an affronted looking Blaise.

"Oh dear God it rhymes," muttered Blaise looking scared as Pansy laughed and clapped her hands. "Draco what have you done?"

Merlin what had I just done? Giving Pansy any type of reason at all to be Hufflepuff-ish was a bad decision. Ever since Potter had begun invading my head, my thought process seemed to have gone askew. I hoped it wasn't permanent.

I convinced Pansy and Blaise to stay with me in the common room for the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening to avoid Potter for one more day. Both had found this idea ridiculous and in some strange way amusing but agreed none the less. They spent many hours playing wizards chess and exploding snap with me, skipping both lunch and dinner in favour of calling on house elf service.

"So Draco," Blaise said, placing a card upon the pile. "Why don't you just go and _talk_ to Potter? Surely it's better than hiding up here."

My exclamation of "_What!?_" was cut off by both Pansy and Blaise bellowing "**SNAP**!" and the card pile exploding. Blaise went on as though nothing had happened.

"Well, when I had a crush on that Slytherin seventh year girl last year, I at least worked up the guts to talk to –"

"I'm _not_ crushing on –"

"**SNAP**!"

The pile had once again exploded leaving a black burn mark on the rug.

"What's the worst that would happen?" asked Pansy brightly, shuffling the cards to start a new game.

"Rejection," I supplied immediately, mentally cursing myself for not being able to hold my tongue. I had as good as just admitted that I was at least a little interested in what Potter had to offer. _Which is nothing_, I reminded myself forcefully, _he has nothing to offer you_. Nothing at all.

Potter's note from breakfast time seemed to burn hot in my pocket as I thought this.

Blaise was wrong. Just because I was _almost_ considering the idea of liking Potter, it didn't make it a good idea to just saunter up to him for a good old hearty confession. I would likely choke at the sight of the golden boy right now anyway and I would definitely not be able to keep my head long enough to talk to him.

Inside my trouser pocket, the note pressed up against my thigh making my heart beat a little faster. The message of it was loud and clear.

_I'm_ _coming for you Draco..._

~ O ~

AN: Dun-dun-dun!! The net is closing in around Draco!

**Please review** this chapter – even if it's just to say you liked it...

Thanks to all those lovely people who reviewed, you made my day! :)


	4. Interrogation

**Chapter 4 – Interrogation **

AN: It is that time again people! Time to update the story. I hope you enjoy this chapter, because it was a pain in the arse to write! Special thanks to my beta Bgreenwivy for the nice comments.

A quick note for '**confused'** who reviewed my last chapter – I'm sorry for any inconvenience it gave you but, see to me, it made perfect sense. At my school we get grade sheets every term and numerous assessments. If you fail the assessment it goes on the sheet. I slapped my head when I read your comment because of _course_ they do not do this at Hogwarts or even at many normal schools. I'm really sorry if it made you confused, it was just a momentarily lapse of concentration.

Happy reading!

**Chapter 4 – Interrogation **

By the time of Sunday morning rolled around, I was one stage away from a quivering wreck.

"Draco," Pansy huffed, "Would you please, _please_, settle down? You're making _me_ nervous for heaven's sake!"

We were sitting, of course, where we always seemed to end up at tense times such as this, in the armchairs by the old Slytherin fireplace. The dungeons may not have many assets but the one redeeming feature is the warmth and comfort given off by the flames.

"What have you got to be nervous about?" I said irritably leaping up from my chair to resume pacing up and down in front of the fireplace. "It's me whose about to be caught and lynched by the swarm of Gryffindors! Oh Merlin what are they going to do when they find out that I –"

"Get off on thoughts of the boy-wonder?" Blaise supplied helpfully.

"Blaise Zabini, don't be so crass!" Pansy snapped and I shot her an appreciative look.

It was still scary to think there may be some truth in Blaise's words.

In the small hours of the morning, I had lain awake, staring restlessly at the ceiling of my canopy bed. I had been turning the idea of liking Potter over in my mind for hours, trying to break it down. Though the bad repercussions of this crush greatly outnumbered the good ones, somehow the benefits seemed to dwarf everything else. If, by some miracle, I managed to get Potter...

Urgh – it wasn't even worth thinking about!

Indeed, as I had lain awake in my bed letting my thoughts stray to the Gryffindor, my cock had twitched slightly. How ridiculous it was that even when I was thinking incredibly non-sexy thoughts about the golden boy, my body reacted like a third years.

"Don't worry Drake, we'll be right there with you," Pansy cooed, grabbing my hand and holding me still as I tried to stalk past her chair. "We'll protect you from the wrath of the Gryfindorks."

"I'm not worried!" I lied, annoyed by the assumption, but gave her hand a squeeze all the same.

Blaise was occupying the other squashy back chair, his legs lazily thrown over one of the arms, his head lolling back onto a cushion. He was surveying Pansy and I looking thoughtful, his eyes alight with contentment.

"Remind me Draco... Why do you think the lions are out for your blood again?" he asked confusedly. "What have you done to upset them? Seeing Potter dead is hardly a crime."

I sighed impatiently. Really, it was obvious wasn't it?

"It's not what I have done, it's what I'm _going_ to end up doing that'll piss them off," I muttered dejectedly. "Sooner or later Potter is going to corner me. I don't like it but that's the way it is. Obviously there is no possible way I'll be able to tell him about...this," I waved my hands vaguely in the air, unwilling to put the bizarre feelings into words. "But he's still going to want an answer, isn't he? So the plan is, I'll hex him, leap over his fallen body, grab you two and sprint back to the common room." I collapsed back into the only remaining seat and ran my fingers nervously through my hair.

"And you think this plan is foolproof do you?" asked Blaise sarcastically, leaning forwards in his chair to look at me more closely. "Draco, are you feeling ok?"

Now he mentioned it, no, I was not feeling ok. Everything seemed so overwhelming all of a sudden and I felt no greater desire than to crawl back into my bed and mope.

"That is the plan we're going with, alright?" I growled, daring him to rebuke it in any way. Though I would never admit to anyone, at that moment in time, I had nothing. I had no idea whatsoever on how I was going to deal with Potter or indeed anyone else. A few Slytherins yesterday had thought to push their luck with me, mentioning loudly to peers about the absurdity of the incident, going so far as to suggest I was starting to develop a Hufflepuff side. I doubt they still thought this later that same evening after spending a couple of hours covered in itchy hives.

"As marvellous as that plan is, Drake, I suggest an alternative as well. Slytherin rule number one – always have a plan B, right?" Blaise said placating, wiggling his eyebrows.

I sighed, feeling immensely relieved that at least Blaise still had his head screwed on. I wondered faintly what was happening to me. It had been a long time since I had felt this bubble-headed.

"Plan B," I murmured, stroking the tassels of the cushion. Both of my friends were looking at me impatiently, waiting for me to continue. A wry smile formed on my face as I caught the excited gleam in Pansy's eye. Nothing gave her a greater thrill than plotting against other people. It came second only to shopping.

"Ok guys – let's bring these Gryffindor suckers down!"

Pansy flashed me a predatory smile as Blaise cheered and clapped me on the back.

"Alright now you're talking!" Pansy whispered eagerly as we all brought our heads closer together.

That is how we started doing what just comes naturally; Scheming.

~ O ~

After countless discussions, which all seemed to derive around the same point, we arrived at our final – completely useless – plan.

Pansy, in the end, was quite aggravated with me for dismissing all of her ideas as they were voiced. I could understand her irritation; I vetoed at least four fifths of the suggestions. I was equally frustrated by the time we were done. I didn't want them to curse Potter, for Merlin's sake!

I wouldn't have him holed up in the hospital wing for weeks on end simply because I had let Pansy have her way. The curse she had first mentioned was a particularly effective – but malicious – one that we had found in fifth year. It was a charm to stitch a person's lips together. Even Pansy's insistence that the 'Potter Problem' would be solved if he couldn't question me was not convincing.

If I wanted him held captive by Madame Pomfrey, I would push him down the stairs like any normal person. Not seal his mouth shut with any of the wicked jinxes Pansy was putting forward. After my moral exclamation that _of course_ we weren't going to use the spell on Potter, Blaise pointed out to me that I had used the lip-stitcher spell on Ernie McMillan last year and _then_ pushed him down the stairs. I ignored this tactless reminder.

After arguing myself hoarse forbidding the use of any fungus related hexes, Pansy and Blaise continued the conversation without me.

I slumped in my armchair sulkily, snorting at some of Blaise's wilder inputs. A small voice in my head told me that it shouldn't be _this hard_ to plot against one measly Gryffindor. In the six years we had known each other, the three of us had managed to pull off some seriously difficult crap. Really, this should hardly be worth thinking about. It certainly shouldn't take one and a half hours of bickering.

Pansy and Blaise had decided, after much dispute, that the first stage was to take out Weasley and the Mudblood. As Potter's two groupies, they naturally stuck to him like leeches – picking them off shouldn't prove too difficult.

"No jinxes?" asked Pansy jokingly in between her and Blaise's plots to lure Granger and the Weasel away.

"No!"

"Wow, it really must be love," said Blaise under his breath, pretending to be looking at the fire. I threw a cushion at him.

The second phase was to create a scene much more demanding of Potter's attention than little old me. We had persuaded two of the younger Slytherins to have a Potter-related brawl, which would drive all other thoughts from his mind.

"This plan is so stupid," I whined to Blaise, fiddling with the hem of my robes. "It's never going to work."

"That's because you wouldn't let us use any curses at all!" Pansy snapped, nudging me in the ribs. "When I suggested obliviating him you went crazy!" As she said the last part, her lips twitched into a grin.

I scowled as this point of hilarity was mentioned yet again. My reaction had not been amusing in the least. I had yelped, sure, and maybe I had started babbling a little incessantly. I told them repeatedly afterwards, it was purely self-preservation making me reject their idea. I am not being expelled before we graduate – no fricking way.

The only thing that we all agreed on was that I had to remain inconspicuous for the rest of the day. I could definitely do that. Of course, I could do that. I repeated this to Pansy and Blaise as we stood up to leave. Blaise snorted in a disbelieving way.

"Good luck with that Draco. No offence mate, but you do send out a 'look at me' vibe."

Pansy nodded solemnly. "It's the hair," she said simply before walking over to the portrait hole. Blaise gave me a small smile before following her. My eye roll went unseen. I could tell it was just going to be one of those days.

We all paused just in front of the portrait. I licked my lips apprehensively.

"Right," said Pansy bracingly, turning around to face us. "The plan is..."

"Useless."

"Draco!"

"Pick off the Harry Potter fan club," Blaise supplied quickly as Pansy's dark eyes glared at me. "Distract Potter from Draco."

"Keep my head down and stay away from Potter," I said glumly.

Pansy's mood seemed to shift from irritated to full of anticipation in one fell swoop. That girl was more mercurial than I was. And that was saying something.

"Excellent!" said Pansy happily, patting me on the arm. "And the backup plan is..."

"Hex and run," Blaise and I said together. A simple leg-locking curse wouldn't hurt him after all; just stop him from chasing after me as I legged it. This thought appealed to me more than it should given that Potter was my apparent love interest.

I grimaced at the word 'love'. It did not describe the way I felt about Potter at all. Sure, I got the fluttery feeling in my stomach, but I'm pretty sure that it was nerves, not attraction. I'm convinced most people don't spend their time actively seeking ways to avoid the person they like. So definitely not love then. So what was it? The frown on my face deepened until Pansy's warm fingers smoothed it out.

"Don't, Sweetie, you'll get wrinkles."

I smiled slightly at the reminder. Pansy was obsessed with what she liked to call my 'pretty little face'. I pulled on the portrait so that it swung open towards us, holding it open for Blaise and Pansy to walk through first. Both made to move past me but then froze. The laughter that had been issuing from Blaise's mouth trailed off abruptly. I brushed it off. My friends are full of odd quirks.

I had only placed one foot on the step however when I felt Blaise's hand curl into the back of my robes, preventing me. Perplexed, I looked up...

...And then wished I hadn't.

"Potter," I said politely, trying to hide the fact that my heart was about to burst out of my chest. He was standing almost nose to nose with me. He must have been waiting right outside the entrance. My eyes widened as I took in his appearance. The hair that was always in disarray was falling across his eyes handsomely this morning, the glasses shining in the light. A slight flush of surprise was on his cheeks as he took in the three of us standing in the common room entrance. Honestly, who stalks someone to right outside of their common room? That was just rude.

Before he could say anything, I stepped backwards and slammed the portrait closed in his face.

"Change of plan," I said abruptly, leaning back against the entrance in defeat. "I'll be staying here for the rest of the day."

"Oh no you don't!" Pansy said warningly, waving a finger at me. "You're a Slytherin damn it, not a Hufflepuff! Get out there _now_!"

I shook my head. "I'm not suicidal."

"I thought you wanted him!"

This rather abrupt statement had come from Blaise. He was looking at me as if sizing me up for potential. There was a hint of mock puzzlement on his face, as if his last words had been as much a question as they had been a statement.

I shifted uncomfortably where I stood. Obviously, he was waiting for a reply of some kind. I couldn't say it though. I couldn't admit it out loud because that would make it official, make it _real_...

"If you don't want him, you'll have no problem walking down to breakfast with us, will you?" Blaise asked challengingly.

My hands balled into fists. This was a test. Blaise was more than willing to help me with this...problem...but it would obviously come at a price. Seeing Draco Malfoy squirm and acknowledge a crush on a Gryffindor seemed to be the price. Well I wasn't about to confess _anything_ so Blaise would just have to live with the disappointment.

He raised his eyebrows in amusement at my pinched face and stony silence. He reached out for the portrait, he was about to pull it open... Potter would still be on the other side of the door. I couldn't face him, not yet. I wasn't prepared! Oh God.

"IwantHarryPotterpleasedon'topenthedoor!" My resolve was broken. All it had taken was a scruffy haired boy and two horribly cunning friends to reduced me to pleading. Oh if Father could see me now...

Pansy, being fluent in this obscure manner of speaking, flung her arms around my neck, squealing things that sounded a lot like "I knew it! I knew it!" Blaise, although less well versed in this tongue, seemed to have caught my meaning. He looked pleased – if only for the reason he had gotten one over on me. I hated it when things like this happened.

I scowled at both of their grinning faces. "I hate you both," I informed them.

"We love you too sweetie," Pansy said, pinching my cheek and giggling.

"Hex and run mate, hex and run!" This seemed to be the only useful input Blaise could think of.

"You're meant to be my _friends_," I whined, trying to appeal to their better nature. "You're supposed to help me!" I was definitely whinging now, but it felt very justified due to the situation. I shifted from one foot to the other in agitation. Pansy looked dumfounded.

"Did you ever think you'd see the day," she said to Blaise quietly, "When Draco Malfoy was a nervous wreck?"

He shook his head slowly.

"Oh piss off if you're not going to help!" I snapped, biting the edge of my thumbnail. The habit still came back to haunt me at tense moments such as this. Father had tried to beat it out of me when I was younger but alas... In these few short days, my nails were almost nibbled down to the quick.

My eyes kept glancing uneasily at the common room entrance, willing Potter to have disappeared by the time I went through the portrait.

"We didn't say we wouldn't help, we just told you to get out there and stop being a wimp!" Pansy grinned. "You said it yourself – Potter's going to come after you anyway, you don't like it but it's still going to happen. Let's do it on our terms, yes?" Linking our arms forcefully, she pulled the portrait open again.

Potter was still out there. He looked irritated at having the door slammed in his face. I hoped he didn't take it personally. I didn't need to give him any more incentive to hunt me down than he already had.

Oh Merlin he looked beautiful, even when standing there rubbing the red mark from when the portrait had smashed into his face. I froze up as his eyes met mine accusingly. Did I just think he was... beautiful?

"Excuse us," I choked, flinging the door shut again.

Blaise almost doubled over laughing now. "Oh he's going to be so pissed," he gasped, clutching his sides. "I can't believe you just banged it is his face for a second time!"

Oops. I hadn't meant to do that, really! I had just needed a minute to collect myself after seeing that attractively annoyed expression. I made my breath catch for some weird reason.

"Third time's the charm?" Pansy suggested wickedly, hauling the portrait open once again.

Before I had a chance to yank it closed, a pair of hands had latched onto the front of my robes. I almost fell as Potter wrenched me forwards into the corridor and hastily scrambled upright. Why did I _always_ look like an arse in front of that boy?

"What is the matter with you?" I grumbled, dusting off non-existent bits of lint from my clothes. In truth, I was not mad at Potter. If I had a door knocked into my face, twice, I think I might be a bit peeved too.

He ignored my muttering and spoke over me.

"Malfoy I need to talk to you, now."

I swallowed uneasily.

"Now's not a good time," I said, trying to sound confident and sure of myself. I ended up sounding like a twelve-year-old girl. "I have to be somewhere."

Behind Potter's back Pansy gave me the thumbs up. It gave me some hope that I might just escape this.

"Breakfast can wait," Potter said simply, still rubbing his slightly pink cheek. My stomach curled in on itself. Why was he making this so difficult?

"Er, no. It's not breakfast. I mean, I do eat breakfast – obviously – It's just... I'm not going to eat breakfast...right now. " Unseen behind Potter, Pansy covered her eyes with the palm of her hand while Blaise bit his lip to keep from laughing.

At what point, since I had first started liking Potter, had I turned into a blithering idiot?

Potter's eyebrows bunched together in confusion.

"So where are you going then?"

Crap. Why had I not foreseen this question?

Blaise and Pansy were both mouthing frantically but their lips were moving too fast for me to decipher what they were saying.

"It's um..."

Blaise was now trying to act out his meaning, his hands miming holding something out in front of him suspiciously close to his nether regions. My eyes darted back and forth between Blaise and Potter feeling horrified. Potter was now looking a little troubled as he waited for my answer.

I gaped at Blaise. He was imitating things that I _definitely_ did not want to think about while I was standing here talking to Potter. What the hell was he playing at? I had the action narrowed down to wanking or...well that was about it. There was no way I was using that as an excuse to leave, no matter how desperate I was.

Pansy wasn't much better. Her arms were making motions as if throwing something invisible. What was that meant to be – a food fight?

Obviously seeing that I wasn't about to get it, Blaise stepped through the portrait hole, sidestepped Potter, and wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

"Ready for Quidditch practice Draco? We have to be there in about... oh, in about five minutes!"

Pansy joined us quickly, standing on my other side. "Yes," she said convincingly. "It's Quidditch practice now isn't it? Why aren't you two already down there? Hurry up!"

I gaped at both of them even as Pansy began to chivvy us along down the corridor.

"'Quidditch practice'?" I hissed as Potter fell behind. I pantomimed the same motions that Blaise had been doing moments earlier. "This is _not_ how you act out Quidditch practice!"

Before Blaise could do anything except smile weakly, another voice rang out down the corridor.

"You don't have Quidditch practice until Tuesday!"

I turned around slowly to see Potter with his arms crossed and his chin sticking out defiantly. The look of determination on the tanned, chiselled, features made me blush. Only Potter would learn the Quidditch timetables by heart.

"No, you're wrong, we have p-practice today," I said, feeling mortified as I stumbled over the words.

He shook his head; a trace of a smile was on his lips. It wasn't the sneer I was used to receiving or even a mocking smirk. No... This was a smile, as sincere and innocent as Potter himself. My knees trembled slightly as the white teeth flashed. Merlin what was happening to me?

"And here was me thinking you were an excellent liar, Malfoy..." Potter said, not attempting to disguise his amusement. "It'll only take a second of your time I assure you."

There was a moment – perhaps five seconds or so – when I was sure I could still escape.

I had allies; loyal, trustworthy, dependable Slytherins who would never _ever_ desert me...

"Come on Blaise, let's go," Pansy said quietly, tugging Blaise away from me. "Let's go up to breakfast. There are pancakes on Sundays and I wouldn't put it past Goyle not to leave me any..."

My mouth dropped open slightly and I instinctively wrapped my own fingers around Blaise's wrist to prevent them leaving.

"No wait!"

I hadn't meant it to sound so desperate. I gave Pansy a beseeching look that plainly said 'stay or you'll regret it'.

My gaze flitted from her expressionless face to Potter's smug one. He was wearing a small triumphant smile that made me want to scream. It could not end like this. No. Way.

"You have fun with Potter, Draco!" Pansy said cheerily, firmly removing my hand from Blaise's arm.

She leant forwards and pressed her lips to my cheek softly. I stood frozen in disbelief even as I heard words whispered against my skin. "Hex him or kiss him... Make up your mind."

Hex him or kiss him. Hex him... Or kiss him.

I wanted to do neither and both at the same time.

Pansy patted me on the arm then turned her hard stare onto Potter. "Play nice," she said threateningly before pulling Blaise along after her down the dungeon corridor.

An uncomfortable silence followed in her wake. Both Potter and I looked at each other, neither of us speaking. The moment seemed charged with energy, like the magical radiation I had sometimes felt from family heirlooms. It was weird and I didn't like it. My legs were just longing to run away, to carry me to safety.

"How do you know where the Slytherin common room is?" I blurted out. Though the question was stupid I immediately felt better that the nasty silence had been broken. I no longer felt like I was going insane. Now I just felt sick.

The feeling of edginess heightened as Potter laughed at my words. Now I was not only anxious I was feeling extremely stupid.

Perhaps seeing the look on my face, Potter stemmed his laughter. For a moment, I almost missed the carefree sound of his chuckles echoing down the passageway. It was such a sweet sound so... so... Potter-like.

"Sorry. I wasn't laughing at you, I was just remembering..." he trailed off still looking amused. I wanted to ask what he was remembering. I wanted to talk to him about it, probe him for information, better yet – _I_ wanted to make him laugh like that.

I said nothing. Keeping quiet was the safest option wasn't it. Everything that came out of my mouth in his presence was the equivalent of word vomit. It seemed my IQ score dropped whenever I encountered the dark haired Gryffindor.

Unfortunately, Potter then seemed to remember why he had been standing outside of said common room in the first place. Drat.

"So can I speak to you in private?" he asked politely.

As this was a direct question, it obviously called on me for some type of speech. This effectively broke my 'no speaking' rule straight away.

"What do you think we're doing now Potter?" I managed to croak. It was a small miracle I managed to make any sound at all, my throat felt as dry as a Shrivel-fig.

He ignored the jibe and carried on. "I meant in a classroom or something, somewhere more...private."

My mind instantly travelled back to what Pansy had said to me. "Just hex him or kiss him... Make your mind up." To carry out either of these things, though the latter seemed unlikely, it would be best to do it out of sight.

I led him into one of the nearest classrooms, shutting the door with a soft click. It was a room similar to Snape's classroom, with wooden desks, a blackboard and an annoyingly cold floor.

Potter seemed to think the same as he pulled his robes more tightly around his body and frowned at the teachers table. Potter's lack of love for potions was obvious for all to see.

"So," he said, his frown melting away as his emerald eyes rested on me. Sitting on one of the desks, he looked the true picture of ease. I think that once upon a time I might have looked like that; in a time before Potter, before Boggarts, before everything stressful...

"So..." I repeated softly, not liking where this was leading. I think I can safely say that the word 'so' has never inspired such fear in me than it did on this moment.

"I want to talk to you about the Boggart thing on Friday," he said evenly and my stomach plummeted.

My mind was coming up blank on the curses front, just repeating the words "hex him, hex him, hex him," over and over again. This was not the least bit helpful and my knees seemed to know it – they trembled. At least I was standing by the door, ready for a fast getaway.

My hand began to run over the smooth surface of my wand, hidden in the pocket of my robes. For once, this did not give me a feeling of confidence. If it had been anyone else, he or she would be covered in boils and writhing on the floor by now. Why did Potter always have to be so damn different?

"So is it true?" he asked quietly, leaning forwards a small amount. "Is it true that you... you know?"

Oh Merlin. I felt as if I was about to faint again. This time it would be in a less dramatic oh-whoops-he-must-just-be-dehydrated kind of way. Much less theatrical than running into a wall.

I still couldn't say anything. What could I say in this situation? 'Yes Potter, I am coming round to the idea that I might just want to shag you'. Inside my head, I groaned despairingly.

His eyes raked over my body, up and down twice. I felt like I was being scanned for carrying muggle bombs or something. Was Potter checking me out? Or was this what all trainee Aurors did? Maybe he had always done it and I had just never noticed...

Potter's eyes narrowed as his searching gaze trailed over my arms. He seemed to have come to some kind of conclusion and my heart thudded loudly.

"I can't believe this," he muttered lowly, dropping his gaze to the floor.

My heart almost banged out of my chest. The need to explain, to make him understand, was beating through me like a pulse. A tiny part of me, the smallest most insignificant bit, yelled at me to say nothing. Keeping my emotions hidden was something I excelled at doing. Now... Seeing him, here, with his jet-black hair falling across his eyes...

"I'm sorry," I whispered miserably, barely noticing the odd taste the word 'sorry' left in my mouth. "I knew you'd hate it. I hate it." By 'it' I meant the sensation currently making my blood electrified. I couldn't call it love because it wasn't. "I can't help it Potter! I didn't plan it, it just happened casually and I didn't even notice until recently and then it was too late..." I winced at my own choice of words. The words 'too late' made it sound like I was doomed.

I hoped Potter understood the sentiment behind the rambling. His face was still accusing, still condemning. I couldn't sum up what I was feeling, only that I was definitely feeling _something_.

"How could you not notice it happening?" he asked, his voice laced with indignation and resentment. "I must have hurt like hell!"

"I – what?" I had been waiting on tender hooks for Potter to throw a punch, tell me I _couldn't_ like him, scream at me. Not confuse the hell out of me. That was a very sneaky tactic.

"I said how could you not notice? It must have stung like a bitch for weeks!"

As bad as it sounds, this was what caused the first inkling of doubt to settle in my mind. I started to realise that maybe Potter and I were not talking about the same things. I needed to make sure – for definite – that we were on the same page before I spilled out any more of my carefully stored emotions.

"What are you talking about?" I asked cautiously, trying to disguise the fact that his answer would decide my fate. If I had nearly confessed my ill advised infatuation for the boy-who-lived _to_ the-boy-who-lived... I may have to Avada myself.

"The same thing that you're talking about," he said, though now he looked slightly uncertain, as if he too was having doubts.

"Which is?" I asked in trepidation.

"The skull and snake souvenir you got from your Daddy's friends!"

I stood completely still, not even daring to breathe. My brain did not comprehend what was happening any more. My ears were ringing badly and my hands were shaking. "Are you seriously asking about the _first_ thing the Boggart turned into?"

"Well, yes," said Potter with a grimace. "I just wanted to check you actually did have the Mark before I hauled you off to Dumbledore's office."

Potter wanted me carted off to Azkaban for supporting the Dark Lord; and I had practically told him that I liked him – of my own violation. But then again...

I let out a breath I hadn't even known I was holding in. A slow grin was forming over my face. Potter didn't know I liked him. Of course he didn't! He truly was one of the more unobservant people I had ever met in my –

I didn't get a chance to finish the thought as Potter leapt on me. For a second I thought he was going to hit me as he had sometimes done before. It soon became apparent however that he was merely trying to tug up the left sleeve of my robes and shirt.

"Do you have it?" he insisted, clutching at my arm, trying in vain to wrestle my sleeves up.

I attempted to throw him off but it seemed that dogged determination fuelled him ever onwards. I clamped my right hand over the cuff of my left, preventing it from coming up an inch. Potter's fingernails scratched at the back of my hand, trying to prise my hand away.

"Potter you barbarian! Get off me!"

We were both stood struggling with each other, Potter with both his hands on mine and I struggling to keep him from tearing my clothes. In other words, it would likely be the thing fuelling my fantasies for the next couple of nights...

We were evenly matched, if I do say so myself. Though Potter definitely had the strength, I had the stubbornness. I wasn't even sure why I was so determined not to give in. If he did yank my sleeve off there would be no Dark Mark there anyway.

"Give up," Potter grunted as we shoved against each other, trying to gain the upper hand.

"Not a chance!" I huffed back, twisting wildly in an attempt to shake him.

His tenacious attitude was actually quite striking. I committed his resolved, sweaty face to memory for those cold and lonely nights in the dungeons.

One of Potter's tanned masculine hands abandoned its fruitless tug of war with mine and disappeared from view. Any fears I had had that Potter had been going for his wand vanished. I recognised the new tactic. This strategy was one that both Pansy and I regularly took delight in. It was a sure way for small people (such as Pans and I) to successfully get one over on taller or bulkier people (such as Blaise and Theo). It is the art of tickling.

As Potter's hand ran quickly and torturously down my side my eyes clamped shut. One of the most sensitive places on my entire body is below my ribs and across my stomach. As Potter's fingers raked across my ribs and then began tickling mercilessly, my hand fell away from my left arm in defeat.

"What are you, eleven?" I panted, as his fingers latched onto my white wrist. He didn't respond to the petty barb.

I never win against Potter anyway. Maybe I should just stop trying.

As the white sleeves of my shirt were jerked away, the even whiter surface of my skin was revealed. Pure, milk bottle coloured, skin. Potter looked astounded as he tugged my hand closer to his eyes. I could feel his breath on my arm, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It was torturous, to have him this close, to have his face so close to my skin...

"You really don't have it!" He said at last. His eyes were shining with something akin to happiness. I pushed down the part of me that was urging to smile too. This boy had just accused me of being a Dark wizard! I should be a long way from smiling.

"I really don't have it," I said quietly. I rubbed the smooth skin where Potter's hands had been previously, trying to banish all thoughts of snakes and skull heads.

"Sorry," Potter mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck in apparent embarrassment. I shook my head to clear this endearing sight from my thoughts.

"Yeah well, I'm sorry to disappoint you." I couldn't even put any spite into my tone. Instead, it came out as slightly humorous. I could tell from the tentative smile Potter gave me that he took it as such.

"So... What did you think I was going to ask you then, if not about the whole 'Death Eater' thing?"

Aw crap. Why God, why are you doing this to me? Just as I evaded one dangerous situation, I walked headlong into another.

"Maybe about the fact that I saw your dead body splattered all over the classroom floor?" I breathed, much too low for any normal person to hear.

"Oh _that_," He said, leaning backwards on the desk again. Have I mentioned that Potter is not normal? "I'd almost forgotten about that!"

Great. I would just have to be the perfect person to remind him wouldn't I?

"You weren't going to ask me?" I said, shrinking in upon myself. I was such an idiot, expecting Potter to do what any normal wizard would do. I obviously didn't know him half as well as I thought I did.

"Well, yes, I was going to ask you about that." He said calmly, making me have to re-evaluate my thoughts about him yet again. "But the Death Eater thing seemed a tad more important. But now that it is out of the way... Why did you fear my messy demise?"

The image of Potter, twisted and mangled as if he had dropped from a great height, swam in front of my eyes. I swallowed uncomfortably.

When I remained silent, Potter went on. "Is that what you thought I was talking about before? The 'dead Harry Potter' boggart?"

I was such a fool. Such a witless, stupid, thoughtless fool.

"No," I croaked, sounding very false indeed.

Potter actually laughed. The sound was sweet, sweeter than anything I had imagined. It made my insides shiver. "What – do have a crush on me or something?" he chuckled.

All the breath left my body in one fell swoop.

I had to stop gawking at him. I was trying to speak, oh Merlin I was trying, but nothing came out. _Say something!_ The voice in my head commanded. _Anything_!

I liked Potter. I knew that now. I really, really liked him. Even though he made me look like an idiot, I still wanted to be around him...

"I like you!"

Oh. Potter had stopped laughing. He was now looking adorably stunned.

Of all the possible combinations of words in the English language, why did I choose to say _those_ words? Those three, _painfully_ humiliating, little words? The fact that some part of me may not hate every morsel of Potter's gorgeous body wrecked the cosmic balance. The universe was likely to implode any second now.

But it was also so much more than that. Liking Potter in the privacy of my own head is one thing. Waking up seriously turned on by my Gryffindor dreams was another, though similarly related, thing. But telling him to his face? Speaking aloud the words of such gigantic consequence... I couldn't deal with that.

It was all too much. I had to leave, had to run, had to escape the green eyes.

So I did. As Potter sat completely still, spluttering slightly with his eyes wide as galleons, I wrenched the door open and stumbled out into the dungeon hallway.

I don't think I've ever run so fast in my life.

My legs seemed determined to put as much distance between Potter and myself as possible. I was flying down the corridor at an unbelievable pace.

My heart sank like a ton of bricks when I heard running footsteps behind me. Of course, Potter would follow me. It was probably for some noble reason, like checking to see if I had a concussion or was delirious. I let out a few mixed swearwords in between frantic breaths as I flew across the cobbled stones.

I knew the dungeons better than Potter did. My knowledge of the intricate network of passageways, corridors and low ceilinged shortcuts held to my advantage.

I lifted up the corner of an ancient tapestry and darted underneath it, into the shortcut that would take me up to the charms corridor. Potter must have seen me shoot behind it for seconds later he had followed me. I heard him calling my name, telling me to stop, but I was so far ahead of him that I couldn't bring myself to stop. I could still make it!

However, this is _me_ we're talking about, I have notoriously bad luck. That's probably why when I made it out of the small dark passageway and into the brightly lit corridor it was teaming with students who had just come from breakfast.

I struggled furiously to get through the crowd but found myself hemmed in, tucked against the wall – a vulnerable position. Potter came through the wall about twenty seconds later, stepping out into the fray only to be shunted back. It was as he was buffeted back that he saw me.

"Malfoy – wait!"

I had begun to push through the sea of students now, not caring for the venomous looks I was getting for this behaviour. Just as the crowd began to thin, a hand suddenly grasped at the back of my robes and spun me around. Can you guess whose hand it was?

Potter pinned me against the wall, one hand on either side of my face to cage me in. Though it should have been the furthest thing from my mind, I took note of our height difference. He was taller than me by about a head, which was surprising as most people were even taller than that. Blaise had at least a head and a half over me. This meant that I was small even in comparison to other small people – great.

He was the perfect height to kiss. I would have to stand on my tiptoes and lean forwards slightly but it was still perfect. His lips were pressed in a hard line of determination, the kissing idea would have to go on hold. I almost laughed – because the idea of Potter and I kissing really _was_ laughable.

"What do you mean 'you like me'?" Potter growled, his forehead almost touching my own. This question coupled with the closeness made my thought process go completely blank for a few seconds. It was so straight and to the point, it bordered on rudeness.

I ducked smoothly out from under his arms and looked at him as coolly as I could manage.

"It's nothing personal," I said with a careless shrug. "You just misunderstood me. I meant that I just can't be bothered to hate you anymore." If I had thought this answer would be satisfactory, I had been sadly mistaken.

"There is a difference between not hating someone and actually _liking_ them!" he said, his voice going a touch shrill towards the end. I found myself becoming amused in spite of myself. It bothered him _this_ much that I didn't hate him?

"Is that why you feared seeing me dead – because you _like me_?!" People were starting to look at us excitedly, clearly anticipating a Malfoy-Potter brawl. Things were going a bit far now. I had not intended for Potter to know I liked him at all. Now here he was jumping to conclusions. I couldn't let him get close to the real answer... He was acting so jumpy it was making me doubt my own diversionary tactics.

"Look would you just calm down?" I hissed frantically when he looked like he was about to explode. "Just let it go alright?"

"_Let it _–_!_"

"Stop fretting Potter. I would not willingly come within ten yards of you unless it was to slip poison in your drink! I'm not about to declare a desire to be your friend or any other crap like that. So just chill ok?"

Ah, such lies! I wanted to be as close to Potter as he would permit me, as a friend or anything else. I wanted him to be as close to me as he was right now – within touching distance.

Potter appeared to be thinking it over. I could almost hear his thoughts as they trickled through his brain. _Of_ _course, Malfoy doesn't like me! That would be absurd! I really must be losing the plot... _So predictable, so like Potter and so _wrong_...

"So we're still enemies yeah?" he asked uncertainly. I did not miss the hopeful expression and I cannot deny that it felt like a punch to the gut. He really did hate me if he could believe my previous words so readily.

"Of course," I muttered, trying my utmost to avoid sounding disappointed. "What else would we be?"

At that moment, the crowd around us lurched as someone at the back (probably a Slytherin) pushed. People shoved into each other as the mob of students surged forwards.

Potter got shunted into me, our heads banging together painfully. I was trapped against the wall with Harry Potter's warm body squashed into me. A month ago, I would have hexed him for it, accident or not. Now however...

I inhaled the scent of Potter's robes as my face pressed into them. He smelt of grass, toast and soap. They instantly became my most favourite smells in the world.

"See Draco, I knew he'd like you!"

No. No, that could not be the voice of Pansy Parkinson. It just _couldn't_ be. But, sure enough, there was no missing the gleeful face and jet-black hair as she pushed her way through the throng of people. "I am the queen of all matchmakers!"

I felt Potter stiffen against me as if he was frozen. Even as I mentally cursed Pansy to the depths of hell and back, another of my problems finally registered.

Potter's face showed abject fear and barely controlled anger as he gazed down at me.

"Malfoy," he said quietly. "Please tell me that is just your wand..."

~O~

Wow - My longest chapter ever! **My** **love goes to all reviewers!!** What do you think of it? Let me know!! :D


	5. Humiliation Alcohol

**AN:** Wow, so many of you left reviews!! I love each and every one of them. Because so many of you have written nice reviews and added me to story alert and stuff, this is an extra long chapter in thanks!!

*This chapter is dedicated to anyone who has ever suffered excruciating humiliation in front of someone they liked. If that is you then you will be able to sympathise with Draco in this chapter!*

**Chapter 5 – Humiliation + alcohol**

_Potter's face showed abject fear and barely controlled anger as he gazed down at me._

"_Malfoy," he said quietly. "Please tell me that is just your wand..."_

~O~

Time stopped for a moment, I am sure it did. Every noise, every sound, everything in the world just stopped as Potter said those words.

Too many things were going round in my head. The completely hysterical illogical suggestions blotted out all scraps of reason. The words _Oh My_ _God_ were the most prominent, as was the word _RUN!!!!!_ I couldn't run though.

Acidic green eyes, glared at me. Well, perhaps glaring is not the correct word. Gaping was probably more accurate. The pink lips were open in shock and the raw bemusement in the eyes made me shrink back from him. Well, as much as I could, backed against a wall and trapped by his body.

Everything seemed to hang on my answer.

_Please_ _tell me that's just your wand_... He wasn't asking me if it was, he was just ordering me to confirm it, a perfect chance to lie if ever I saw one.

"I – I – It's not –" Jesus Christ, I was losing my grasp on the English language. "I mean... It isn't..." I couldn't even _finish_ the lie! Anything I said at the moment would come out horribly, irreversibly wrong.

The part of me that seemed to control my thinking and speaking functions seemed to have malfunctioned. Or perhaps that was the part of me that was pressing into Potter quite so insistently...

"Drake!" My eyes snapped shut to avoid watching this next horrifying episode of my life. Pansy bloody Parkinson. We were fellow Slytherins, best friends, Gryffindor tormenters, Purebloods... And about to become murderer and victim.

"Drake, are you ok?" I shuddered. The movement made Potter shake a little too, due to our position. Our bodies were pressed snugly together...certain parts more than others.

_Think Draco_! Merlin, of all the awkward situations to have landed in...

"Malfoy," Potter said in a dangerously low voice. "What the _hell_ is going on?"

Ah... My body was burning with want now. Obviously Potter didn't realise how warm he was pressed against me, or how his hot breath was falling on my face with every word. Had he always had such a sexy voice? The low chant of the words had me almost hypnotised. The deep syllables being growled into my face almost made me melt, I'm sure of it.

Malfoy etiquette went completely out the window as any tiny movement that Potter made caused him to rub against me satisfyingly. Even though part of my brain was screaming and raging at me to _get away from him_ _right this instant_... The tent in my trousers held me in place.

There really is no justification for what happened next. I could try to explain it a thousand times and still not understand why I did it.

I couldn't help it, truly. Potter was just so gorgeously furious that I was positively aching with need. Disregarding the numerous onlookers, ignoring my own morals and most of all closing my eyes to Potter's intense stare, I thrust my hips upwards. Then _groaned_ heatedly like I was mid-orgasm.

It was without a doubt the most wonderful and embarrassing thing I have ever done in my life. Everyone in the corridor seemed to have stopped what they were doing to look at me.

I think it was only after sensing hundreds of eyes burning into me than my brain caught up with my actions. I froze up. Just utterly froze, like I'd been petrified. I was looking straight into Potter's eyes that now looked like twin emeralds filled with horror and alarm. They were probing my own grey eyes, searching for something hidden. Looking for an answer to these rather abrupt actions, I suppose.

My face was burning like a flame, hotter and more scarlet than I cared to imagine. I had just humped his leg. He was my worst enemy, my schoolboy rival... and I had just rutted against him.

His face was two centimetres from my own. His sharp gasping breaths fell onto my slightly open lips. No time for embarrassment, not yet. He was so close...

I leant forwards, intending to close the gap between us. My lips had just managed to press firmly against his own mouth before Potter drew back as if I had burnt him. The look of utter bewilderment on his face made my heart freeze.

I had misread the signs. _Again_. The brief contact of lip on lip had caused fireworks to shoot around inside my brain, tingles to electrify every nerve ending in my body... In other words, I was a bloody mess. But the look on Potter's face made my stomach churn. He looked like he had just caught Snape and McGonagall fucking. In other words, he looked _appalled_.

In the same time it took me to go cold with anguish, it seemed that Potter regained the use of his vocal chords.

"Malfoy, what the _fuck_–"

"Silencio!" Blaise's wand pointed at Potter's back, the blue light of the spell hitting him between the shoulder blades. I didn't have to be able to lip read to guess what Potter was saying. 'What the fuck are you doing you crazy bastard?!?!?!' – seemed about right.

Hands were tugging at my un-responding limp arms, trying to pull me away from the Gryffindor. The hands were small but insistent, with long pointy nails. I tried not to moan as I recognised them. Hadn't Pansy done enough for one day?

Before I could be pulled away entirely I leant in as close as the restraining hands would let me. Potter's mouth was still working furiously but no sound was coming out.

"I lied."

Such simple words and yet the weight behind them almost made me cry. I didn't want to be his enemy. I don't think I could manage it anymore.

I didn't stick around to watch Potter's facial expression. I didn't need to.

~O~

"Draco," Pansy said quietly, giving the door a little rap with her knuckles. "Please let me in."

I sighed gustily. Pansy had been out there ever since we had come back to the Slytherin common room. Upon entering the boy's dormitory, I had thrown as many locking charms as I knew at the door. It was a good thing I had too, as she had been trying to get in after me ever since.

"Please Drake. I won't even say anything. I just want to make sure you're ok..."

I didn't respond, just buried my head a bit deeper into my pillow. She wanted to know if I was ok... I doubted I would ever be ok again. The images that seemed burned on the inside of my eyes were haunting me, chilling me, killing me. He hated me, more than he ever had before.

"I kissed him Pans," I whispered. I sounded dead even to my own ears. "I kissed him right after I fucking rutted against him! There is no way I am leaving this room."

"Draco, I'm so sorry..."

I let loose a little sobbing laugh. She was sorry? She was _apologising_? Pansy didn't do apologies. She did pity, scorn and empathy but never ever the 'S' word. This meant she was probably not being serious. The thought caused a burst of anger to flare within me, momentarily stamping out the burning mortification.

"What are you sorry for?" I called back, my voice sounding hoarse and scratchy. "The way Potter humiliated me in front of all our peers? Or perhaps the fact that it was _you_ who caused said humiliation?"

There was a small silence, "Both," was the hushed answer.

I rolled my eyes and tried to pretend that I didn't care. I wiggled further down the bed and buried my face in the sheets. The Potter problem was eating away at my thoughts, converting ordinary brainwaves into electric shocks.

I tried repeatedly to blame Pansy and Blaise for this whole situation. It was so much easier than accepting that it was _me_ who messed everything up. It was true that Pansy had pushed me into leaving the Slytherin Common room to talk to him. And it was also her and Blaise that left me to deal with him all alone. But the circumstances meant it would still have been salvageable until I had gotten carried away with my libido. I had ruined everything.

My eyes kept prickling strangely as if I was about to start sobbing. The idea that I might begin crying at any moment scared me into action.

Sliding off my bed, I wrenched up the covers that drooped over the sides of the mattress. I got down on my hands and knees (though if you asked me about it later I would deny it – I am _not_ a house elf) to gain access to what was hidden underneath it.

The tin, previously used for storing all of my potion supplies, had become my secret lair of objects. My fingers skated over the bits and pieces hurriedly, before locating what I had been looking for.

A gift Pansy gave to me for my last birthday; I had almost immediately fallen in love with it. It was a wooden hexagon; roughly the same size as the palm of my hand and used for playing wizarding music. It was one of my favourite possessions.

I took out another item from the tin though this one was infinitely smaller; a light blue cube that slotted easily into the hexagon. A soft beat began to emanate from the whole thing slowly getting louder and louder as I turned it up. Soon the music drowned out Pansy's requests for entry.

Even as the beat of the song drummed into my head, I could still see Potter's confused face behind my eyes. He was blinking in bewilderment as I grinded against him, the perplexity soon turning into disgust. I had to forget those eyes. They would slowly turn me crazy if I didn't.

I was swallowing far too often to be normal. Sometime during our hasty retreat back to the dungeons, an immovable lump seemed to have settled in my throat. I wasn't swallowing back tears, I wasn't!

I felt giddy as my fingers lighted upon other things that were hidden even further under my bed.

I tugged one of the bottles of Fire whiskey from its resting place and quickly undid the top. The bitterness that came from the first taste of the liquor burned though my skull leaving me feeling tingly and refreshed. This was all I needed for a while, Just my bed, the bottle and me.

I could still hear the faint sounds of Pansy screeching at me to 'open the damn door'. I pointed my wand at the music player, letting the music swell to an almost unbearable pitch.

The fast rhythm of the song chased away all my other thoughts. All I could hear was the bass, the wailing words or the singer and my own blood pounding through my veins.

"DRACO!!" They had begun to beat upon the door now. Couldn't they let a guy be miserable in peace? The voice calling to me now belonged to Blaise. Maybe I could let Blaise in. Blaise was tolerable company when I was feeling like a train wreck.

I turned down the music and stood up unsteadily. I began to undo all of the locks, one by one.

Blaise and Pansy stood side by side behind the door looking concerned and, in Blaise's case, apprehensive. There was no smile tugging at his lips now. This, more than anything, brought home to me the fact that these two people really did care about me. The whole thing was starting to feel a bit surreal.

"Draco..." Pansy started, reaching out as if to fold me into a hug. I held up a hand quickly to stop her. A hug wouldn't have actually gone down too badly, given how I was feeling... But no one was going to find out about that, ever.

"No mushy stuff ok Pans?" I said wearily. I could hardly bare anymore incentive to break down and weep than I already had. I stiffened where I stood as she enveloped in her small arms anyway. She smelt of flowers and nail varnish, just as she always did. The familiar smell was more comforting than I would have expected it to be. The quiet words "don't be ridiculous," she whispered into my shoulder as she clung to me tightly.

The few times I had flown into rages before, I had locked myself in the dorm and not come out for two days. Blaise seemed wary of how to approach me.

"Want to help me get pissed?" I asked sadly, holding up the bottle of Fire whiskey.

A shadow of Blaise's usual grin touched his lips and I felt Pansy smile into my neck. "Definitely," they said in unison.

~O~

"P-pass me the b-b-bottle Blaise," I slurred, holding out a hand for what was now our third bottle of Whiskey. Blaise took a huge swig then handed it over. The fact that Blaise was managing not to look as half pissed as I was irked me. His grin was lazy and content now that the alcohol was in our systems but he still looked rather demure. While I acted in a usually embarrassing mixture of slurring and giggling, Blaise managed to keep his cool. Well, until he opened his mouth anyway.

"Here you go buddy. My greatest, most favourite, best-est, bentest mate in the whole wide world!"

"Who you calling _b-bent_?" I asked even though my brain was hardly processing the word. I tugged the bottle from his loose grasp and took a swig.

We were lying on my bed. My head was resting in Pansy's lap and Blaise was hogging all of the pillows. It had not taken long to finish the first bottle when we got started – it turned out that we were all much thirstier than we had realised. I had managed to keep my mouth shut about the biggest issue that rattled round in my head until at least the second bottle. I knew that after that it was unlikely any of us would remember it tomorrow anyway.

"You know what?" I said loudly as I tipped the bottle to my lips again. "I don't need P-Potter to be happy!" This thought had been nagging at me for several minutes and I felt instantly better for voicing it. "I was f-fine before this. I'll be oh...kay. I'll be...ok."

Pansy's fingers gave my hair a sharp tug making me wince.

"You're too good for that Gryffindor ponce, D," she said firmly as if daring me to argue with her. "You're much too beautiful and sexy and _Slytherin_ to need someone like that!"

"Potter is useless anyways," said Blaise with – unless I am mistaken – a _giggle_. "His hair looks like a bird has died in it, his clothes look like they're from a buy 'n fly sale and don't even get me started on his glasses!"

"What wrong with his glasses?" I said defensively, screwing up my face in an unattractive way.

"Oh please, they look like the potions lab goggles we sometimes have to wear!" said Blaise, taking the bottle back and bringing it to his lips. I frowned at his words. Potter wasn't ugly! He was beautiful, so very, very beautiful...

"He's just...misunderstood," I argued, not even understanding why I was pressing the point. Barely a week ago, hadn't I thought exactly the same things?

Blaise opened his mouth to retort but he was cut off by two very audible sounds echoing through the room. The first was a sharp 'click' and the next was a slow and sinister creak. Both sounds had come from the door. The latch pulled up and the door had opened a little way as if someone had come in. As soon as it had opened, the door closed again with a snap as if whoever had opened it had shut it hastily to keep out the draft.

"Theo?" I asked loudly, peering at the empty space by the door. No one had come in. Why would someone open and close a door for no reason?

"Theo's up in the girl's dormitory wrapped around Daphne," Pansy supplied with a grin. "Crabbe and Goyle are up there too, stalking poor Millicent. We have the whole place to ourselves. Your dormitory is probably just haunted D!"

"Ah, shut up," I said easily, rolling back onto my front and passing her the bottle. "The only thing that haunts this dorm is _you_, you little Hinkypunk!"

The banter resumed once more, the haunted door almost instantly forgotten.

"He is pretty though, isn't he?" said Pansy dreamily. "You and Potter would look so hot together... If ever you do get together I am the first person you tell ok?" Blaise looked worriedly at her.

I could hardly be bothered to tell her that there was no chance in hell I was going to so much as _look_ at Potter again after today, much less get together with him. Still, _someone_ needed to knock the idea out of her head.

"Yeah, well, no c-chance of that now is there?" I asked her indignantly. "He hates me more than ever!"

She smoothed my hair over my forehead and began trying to braid it. "It's not too late," she said calmly. "There's still a chance. We can always make a new plan. Besides you and Potter would be incredibly hot..."

"You really think that two guys together is sexy?" Blaise asked her perplexedly. The question was obviously addressed to Pansy but I rolled over and answered too.

"Yes!" I shouted the word at the same time that Pansy did, before breaking into peals of laughter. It was loud irrepressible laughter, the uncontrollable oh-my-god-I-sound-like-a-girl kind. I found that I really couldn't care less. Fire whiskey brings out the worst in me.

Pansy stopped laughing abruptly. She was now looking at me as if she had just figured out all the secrets of the universe.

"Draco!" she said gleefully, grabbing my arm in drunken excitement. "I have the most brilliant idea in the history of brilliant ideas!" she leant forwards conspiratorially before whispering loudly "Kiss me, Draco!"

"Oh no!" I laughed, spilling some of the drink down myself as I chuckled. "I'm not falling for _that_ one again!"

I ignored Blaise's deadly look at the words 'again'. I didn't want him to hit me for something that was half forgotten and done years ago. What happened in second year stays in second year.

"No, you idiot," she said affectionately, "Just to see if you really are gay! If you kiss me back, all of this stuff about your liking Potter is utter garbage and we celebrate that you are straight! If it does nothing for you, I hug you, we celebrate that you're gay!"

There was a little banging sound from over by Blaise's bed, as if something had bashed against the bedpost. Then again, my head was pounding far too much to be believable with the amount of liquor consumption. What's a little hallucinating from time to time, between friends?

I chewed my lip thoughtfully. The Pansy kissing test was better than anything I had come up with so far... Perhaps I really was straight. Perhaps this confusing part of my life was finally about to end.

"What if it doesn't work because it's you?" I ask stupidly. "I've known you almost my entire life, since we were babies – It would be like incest!"

For a few seconds she looked incredibly put out. If I had been sober, I might have been worried about how much the idea of not kissing me depressed her. "Good point... Damn, it was such a good plan too. Oh no, wait, I've got it! You don't kiss me, you kiss _Blaise_!"

Blaise spat out a mouthful of Firewhiskey onto my bed sheets. I didn't mind too much, if I'm honest. Though the idea was fairly... strange... Though I could not pretend that Pansy's idea didn't intrigue me just a little bit. Was it just Potter I liked or was it all guys? Did boys kiss differently than girls did? What if I liked kissing Blaise... Merlin that would be awkward.

"Sorry Pans, I'm not drunk enough for that yet," said Blaise looking uneasy. I didn't blame him for being a bit scared when directly going against Pansy's wishes. She was scary at the best of times.

It took another bottle of whiskey, much persuasion and a pillow fight before Blaise finally threw his hands up in the air with an exclamation of "Oh for the love of Salazar!"

Before I could do much more than blink, Blaise had leant in and pressed his lips against mine. I stared in shock at his tightly closed eyes and scrunched up nose. Merlin this boy really would do anything for Pansy Parkinson. When the disbelief had subsided, I ran my tongue over his bottom lip questioningly.

When Blaise's mouth opened and a hot tongue pressed back against mine tentatively, I moaned in pleasure. Hey, this wasn't so bad after all. what was I ever worried about?

"God _Haaaary_..." Wait what? The other boy's name had rolled off my tongue before I could hold it back. It is very hard to concentrate when you're smashed.

Was I really just imagining it or did something by Blaise's bed just cough? It was a dry choking sound, like someone swallowing a hard-boiled sweet without sucking it first. All was silent now and I think I really must have imagined it. See, this is the reason I don't drink, except at parties.

Blaise had pulled back and was looking very relieved that it was over. Pansy just looked very... well, _drunk_, I guess.

"Well fuck me if that wasn't the hottest thing I've seen in a while," she said with a slow grin. "I think we can safely say that it's only Potter that get's your heart beating!"

"Yeah," I mumbled, rubbing my lips thoughtfully. As nice as the kiss had been from Blaise, the brief electric kiss I had forced on Potter earlier had been so much better. "It _is_ just Potter. Thanks Blaise – Excellent kiss by the way." I tried to wink at him but my face felt stiff from too much alcohol.

"Look at you, out of the closet at last!" Blaise sniggered as he leant back against my pillows. "It only took three and a half bottles of Fire whiskey, a sexually charged run in with your nemesis and a snog from your best friend to make it happen! Merlin, we should get you drunk more often!"

It is a testament to how intoxicated I was that I hadn't even picked up the sarcasm. Me, not recognising sarcasm! Sound the alarm bells!

"M'not drunkkk..." I said feeling annoyed. I was squinting at Blaise through almost closed eyes which made him look rather blurry. "M'just gay..." A second after the words had tumbled from my lips I sat bolt upright, knocking Pansy's hands aside.

"Did I...just... Did I just say..."

"Uh huh," Blaise confirmed.

"Holy craaap..." I couldn't think of anything else to say than that. Finally, there it was, out in the open. Apparently, I was gay. I fought down the insane desire to laugh. "Who would have thought it? I'm gay for Harry Potter!"

At any other time – a time where three and a bit bottles worth of alcohol were _not_ sloshing around inside of me – I would not have made a confession like that for the world. But now...

I was gay. Homosexual. A shirt-lifter.

_Thud!_ The lamp on Blaise's bedside table suddenly fell to the floor. It landed with a clatter on the flagstones making us all jump.

"What is it with all the inanimate objects coming to life tonight?" asked Pansy in amusement as Blaise went to pick up the lamp. "Maybe it's because you just admitted you liked Potter for the first time, Draco. What is it you said before? That it 'wrecked the cosmic balance'. I'm starting to think you might have been right!"

"It's been known to happen," I said with a theatrical sigh. "And you can shut up Blaise!" Blaise had been smirking broadly, as he righted the lamp as if to say 'When have _you_ been right about _anything_?' I held the bottle out of his reach as he chuckled. "I'm right about everything, Zabini, its common knowledge. So what if I like Potter? Have you even _s-seen_ Potter? The b-black gorgeous hair and his pretty, _pretttty_ _eyes_? That's enough to turn _anyone_ gay!"

I was getting carried away now, shaking the bottle to emphasise my point.

"He's actually fucking gorgeous! No, more than that! What comes after g-gorgeous?" I asked Pansy impatiently.

"Amazingly, breath-taking-ly, stunningly sexy?" she said giggling.

I nodded madly, pointing a finger at her shakily. "See, you – you understand," I said jubilantly. "A-anyone can see that Potter is a _God_... He's practically – Hey!"

"No more drink for you," said Blaise, trying to pluck the bottle from my pale fingers. As we fought for it I tipped a bit more into my mouth and down my robes. "I don't practically want to hear about how good-looking you find the Golden Boy. We all know you don't carry your liquor so well Draco."

I clutched at my chest as if I had been stabbed in the heart. "Me?!" I shouted, ignoring the snort of laughter this evoked from Pansy and the pitying look it earned from Blaise. "I could drink you losers under the table any fight...right..._night_." To emphasise this I snatched the bottle back to my lips again. "And besides, if I _want_ to drink away this horrible gaping hole inside of me, who are you to stop me? I've just tried to hump the-boy-who-lived in front of most of the school. I think that gives me the right to get pissed, don't you?"

This is the point that things started to be a little...Blurry. The bottle of whiskey seemed to haze around the edges as if it was losing its shape. My eyes were filling up with moisture and my throat was closing up, making my breathing constricted. Merlin... I hadn't cried since I was eight years old.

Blaise wrenched the bottle out of my hands and held it out of arm's length. . I couldn't even be bothered to yell at him. Everything was starting to feel a bit...dreamlike.

"For future reference, Draco is not going to be allowed any more than one bottle of Firewhiskey per drinking session." Blaise said to Pansy dryly as she patted my hand soothingly. "After that he becomes a reckless, blubbering mess who can't remember his own name and can't walk in a straight line."

I cried harder at his words. It was so true – so _true_!

We sat quietly for a little while, Pansy stroking my arms rhythmically as the wetness dribbled out of my eyes. God, I was so pathetic. We were all listening to the ebb and flow of the music which was now at a much lower volume. The presence of my two friends was helping sooth the horribly aching pain that came from the embarrassing stunt I had pulled earlier. Or maybe it was just the alcohol.

I winced as Pansy yelped loudly. She was suddenly sitting bolt upright as if she had been on the receiving end of a stinging hex. I did not allow the abrupt change to startle me. Even while I was inebriated it could not wipe away a lifetime of knowing Pansy's odd mannerisms.

"Wha S'matter?" I asked thickly through the tears as nimble fingers began to pinch me in excitement.

Blaise looked more agitated than intrigued. "No, I will not kiss Draco again." He said irritably before she could speak.

"Don't be silly." She said promptly, though there was an undercurrent of disappointment in her voice. She really would like us to kiss again. She was wearing a smile that contained too much mischief and glee to be entirely safe. Pansy often wore this smile after doing something devious. I had no doubt that this smile could be used to break any boy's heart. Well...any straight boy. This at least explained why Blaise hastily began examining the almost empty bottle in his hands. I imagine that if Potter gave me a grin like that I would begin jabbering rather incoherently. There was a faint flush on his cheeks.

"What are you on about?" I said groggily, wiping the remaining tears from my face. I began tickling her feet in hopes of hurrying her up. All I received for my efforts was a clip round the ear – honestly, women!

"Draco," She was almost bouncing with happiness now. "I've got a sixth sense!" There was a few seconds silence before Blaise and I burst out laughing. Pansy and her bloody voodoo magic! I've lost count of the number of times that I have had tea spilt over myself as Pansy wrenched the cup out of my hands at breakfast to read the bloody tealeaves.

"Ah Pans," said Blaise affectionately. "Life would suck without you." The unspoken sentiment of 'I love you' seemed inaudible to everyone but me. I allowed myself a private smirk. I wondered how long it would take for them to realise. Pansy and Blaise had been dancing around each other for years.

"Oh leave off!" she snapped as Blaise ruffled her short black hair. "I'm serious! I was just thinking about it and well... I really do have it!" her face was full of so much glee that I couldn't bring myself to make a cutting comment.

"Do you remember when we first met, Draco? The first ever time?"

I spluttered in a very un-Malfoy-ish way. "Vividly," I growled. I doubted I would ever forget the day that minx came into my life. She had been tiny then, with little black pigtails and vibrant pink robes, a broomstick-breaking, mud-throwing, horrible little _monster_!

"Do you remember my first ever words when I saw you?"

I scowled at her through the alcohol haze. Was she trying to make me feel worse? Of course I bloody remembered!

Pansy grinned. It was as if all of her Christmases had just come at once. "'Oh Mummy, look! He looks like a fairy!' And I was right, wasn't I?"

Blaise started to cough as he laughed, ignoring my glowering look. Soon he and Pansy were both rolling around the bed in hysterics, clutching at each other for support, tears streaming down their faces.

"Oh hilarious," I said irritably as they continued to laugh at my expense. "Some friends you are! 'Just because he's gay we reserve the right to call him a fairy.' Alright, laugh it up," I snarled. "You won't be laughing later on when you're hanging from the ceiling by your toes!" This, if anything, caused them to laugh even harder.

I fumbled for my wand and brandished it at them, menacingly. The fact that it was the wrong way around wasn't important. I guess now I understand why the Ministry is so into 'Don't Drink and Spell' campaigns.

The air beside Blaise's bed snorted in amusement. I ignored this. I was prepared to ignore anything that confirmed the fact that I was going crazy.

Soon I too was sucked into the contagious portal of insanity and began giggling weakly. Merlin, I must've been extremely far gone to be able to laugh at myself.

The rest of the evening passed in somewhat of a blur. I remember laughing too much at random things like the way Blaise's hair stuck up at funny angles from where he had been laying on the pillows. I remember falling off the bed and becoming tangled in the drapes at some point too. The one thing I probably wouldn't want to remember in the morning was my terrible rendition of popular wizarding song 'I'm too sexy for my robes'. There was certainly no more crying.

By midnight, all three of us were lying in a heap, utterly exhausted.

Blaise was already asleep, his mouth open in a half smile, like he was having pleasant dreams. The sight was endearing, seeing our friend so open and vulnerable like that. It was not endearing _enough_ to prevent us from painting his face in various make-up products of Pansy's though. Pansy had scribbled '_I kissed Draco Malfoy and I liked it_' over his face in green ink. For some reason this seemed absolutely hilarious for at least half an hour.

It had gone midnight and Pansy and I were still awake. We were lying closely together and sharing intoxicated smiles from time to time. Our hands were linked in a thumb wrestle; a tradition of ours that long outstripped any other. The remains of the cosmetics were strewn around us, almost all of it used up now.

Pansy was sporting a green ink slogan of '_Slytherin Slut_' on one cheek and a curly green moustache doodled on her top lip. I myself had a scarlet lipstick title of '_Fairy Boy_' on my forehead and many messy hearts drawn all over my face.

The period just before Morpheus succeeded in lulling me to sleep was the time to voice the petty fears that lurked in the dark corners of my head.

"I'm not leaving this room, ever," I whispered to the darkness. "Never ever, ever; will you stay here with me?" It was a childish thing to say but it was how I was feeling. Loath as I was to depend on other people, Pansy and Blaise were just...always there. Always with me when I needed them.

"Of course," Pansy whispered breathily back as she tried to trap my thumb with hers. "I'll always stay with you."

My heart warmed at these words. I had never had a better friend, never trusted anyone more, than I did with Pansy. Even when she persuaded me to ruin my life, like she had today, I still loved her.

"I'm so sorry that I encouraged you to go after Potter," Said Pansy sadly, the fingers of her free hand stroking through my hair. "This is all such a mess isn't it?"

"You could say that," I murmured sarcastically. She gave our linked hands a little squeeze. "Pans..." Oh Merlin. I couldn't say it. I wouldn't. I was supposed to be stronger than this... "Do you ever think...that maybe... Do you ever think he'd grow to like me?"

I'd said it. As stupid as it was, it was the biggest fear I had right then. Even with the whole school probably whispering that I was a faggot, my biggest concern was still Harry fucking Potter. Despite everything, I continued to want him. After every lost Quidditch match, every intense argument, all the teasing and detentions and the sheer and utter _crap_ we had yelled at each other in fits of fury... I was still burning with the desire to be his friend as much as I had been when we were eleven.

I wanted him to like me. Even more than that, I wanted him to know _Draco_ and not just _Malfoy_. I wanted him to care about me.

That shocked me out of my drunken state somewhat.

"He would be a fool not to, Draco," whispered Pansy sleepily. "If he can't see how brilliant and witty and amazing you really are, he doesn't deserve to have you..."

I was glad of the darkness so that she couldn't see the tears that were once again dribbling down my cheeks. Potter would never like me, whether I deserved him or not.

Finally, her thumb closed over my own, trapping it tightly.

"Good night Fairy Boy," Pansy whispered, her eyelids flickering.

"Good night Slytherin Slut," I replied sleepily. Pansy really was my best friend, my annoying, loud, frustrating and wonderful best friend. "Thank you..."

~O~

"Draco..."

_Harry's mouth wandered lower, his tongue darting out to lick my neck. I groaned as his hands moved lower down my back..._

"_Mmmm..."_ _Please Harry, don't stop, never ever stop..._

"Draco... Stop it. Get off me."

_Harry's mouth came back up to my own, nibbling my bottom lip, hands cupping my face gently...his hips were moving sensuously again mine, like we were dancing. _

"_Oh God, Harry..."_

"Don't make me do something I'll regret Draco."

I snuggled closer to the warmth of the person in my arms, nuzzling into their neck. Merlin, Harry was so amazing...

"Draco you have exactly five seconds to get away from me before I castrate you!"

A sharp prodding in my ribs made me open my eyes. Why was Harry poking me?

Potter's face was replaced with Pansy Parkinson's murderous looking one. The green eyes replaced with dark ones which were narrowed in annoyance. She was trying in vain to remove my arms from where they wrapped around her small body, trapping her to my side.

I snatched my hands back, feeling like someone had thrown a bucket full of ice-cold water over me. Moving as far away from Pansy as the narrow bed would permit, I groaned in frustration.

Every single time my body got excited over Potter, something or someone had to ruin it! First it was me, spoiling it because I didn't recognise it for what it was and couldn't appreciate it. Then it was Potter himself who looked like I had committed an offense punishable by law for rocking against him. Now it was Pansy leaving me high and dry! Even though I was definitely thankful for the 'dry' part of that equation. It would have been _mortifying _to wake up in soggy trousers_._

We were all still in our day clothes, none of us having bothered changing into our pyjamas. The white shirt I was still wearing from the day before was distressingly crumpled up and covered in more alcohol stains than was decent.

"Quit molesting me in my sleep Draco!" Pansy muttered, before rolling over and huddling closer to Blaise instead. Within seconds, the sounds of her gentle breathing could be heard.

I flushed a dark shade of red. It seemed that my fantasy and had gotten slightly confused with reality for a few moments.

I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. A blinding, sickening pain shot through my skull. No matter how many times I had gotten wasted in my life, I would never be prepared for the hangover. My hands flew up to cover my eyes in agony, mentally cursing the horrible burning ache in my head.

The stone floor was freezing under foot as I slid out of bed and moved across the room silently. Every step sent a volley of little shooting pains through my head. I could not down the little vial of hangover potion quickly enough. The second it touched my throat, the hazy alcohol fog lifted from my mind, as did the throbbing in my temples. Everything seemed to come into much sharper focus all of a sudden. It was like someone had enhanced all the colours of the room. I had to blink several times to stop my eyes from stinging.

Jeez, how much had I had to drink?! A quick count of the empty bottles littered around the bed showed at least four. I had only been intending to drink one, to chase away the sting of humiliation. The numbness that came from the sweet liquid had removed Harry Potter from my thoughts, if only for a little while.

The horrible bitterness of the hangover potion brought it all rushing back. In some ways, the headache would have been worth it if it would keep the Gryffindor from poisoning my mind. Because he _was_ poisoning me, thoughts that had before been closed off, forbidden, _unheard of_, were now tainting my decisions.

If you had told me a week ago that in seven days time I would have kissed Harry Potter... You wouldn't be here right now. But I _had_ kissed him. A chaste touch of lips on lips but a kiss all the same. And the thrusting... I ran a weary hand over my face in despair. It was unbelievable.

All the things that use to be certain were now open to interpretation. With every passing day my dignity was diminishing.

The room was too cold. The icy stone against my feet was beginning to send shivers up my body. I slipped my shoes on silently. Getting up couldn't hurt now that I was awake, could it?

Just a brief stretch, maybe sitting in the common room for a little while just to clear my head...

I tugged a hooded sweatshirt over my crumpled top and rubbed my hands over my arms, trying to generate some warmth. The dungeons were brilliant in many ways but their constantly cool temperature was definitely a down point. I slipped out of the room like a phantom, careful not to wake the others. The dormitory door closed behind me with a soft squeak and 'click'.

~O~

The common room is a place for noise. This is something that only just became clear to me. If you've ever tried sitting in the common room in silence by yourself, you'll realise that it's not fun.

A few times I thought I heard the shuffle of footsteps on the staircase to the boy's dormitory, as if someone was about to join me in the common room. I waited expectantly to see if Pansy had woken and come downstairs to find me. I had apparently overestimated the psychic link that Pansy often boasted she and I shared. I couldn't begrudge her the sleep though. It was my fault she was drunk anyway. I would let her sleep peacefully until morning.

After a while, I got the fire going and spent a long time just staring into the burning logs. I wasn't thinking about Potter, seriously! Well, maybe a little bit. The flames were Gryffindor red after all.

My mind kept casting back to earlier with Pansy and Blaise. '_I always knew you were a Fairy Draco!' 'Who would have thought it? I'm gay for_ _Harry Potter!' 'He's actually fucking gorgeous!'_ The words echoed round and round my head until I clapped my hands over my face in horror. Was this..._yearning_...for Harry Potter going to be a permanent thing? Would I be sobbing into my pillow the night before I married Cerise, pining for the Boy Wonder? Would I be an emotional wreck when Potter eventually married the Weaselette?

Oh my God. _The Weaselette_.

Why hadn't I even spared a thought for the she-weasel? What is she was... Potter's _girlfriend_? The notion made me pause in my act of stroking the tasselled cushion. What if they really were together...?

I gritted my teeth and had to work hard not to yank the tassel straight off the cushion. How dare that little slut touch Potter? Potter was too good for her, much too good for her. He wouldn't really want that little red haired shrew would he?

Uh, I was biting my nails again. Such a bad tendency! At least now I could blame my stubby nails on Ginny Weasley instead of my own uncivilized habits.

Why was Potter so addicted to the Weasels anyway? The whole motley crew were a bunch of ginger beggars with nasty tempers and freckles.

Thoughts of Potter and the Weaselette buzzed around in my head like bees, stinging me every time I tried to examine them too closely. Merlin I hated her. What could she have that would possibly interest Potter?

Hunting down a piece of parchment and a rather battered looking quill, I settled back into my favourite armchair. I had hours ahead of me before I had to be up for breakfast. That meant plenty of time to consider all the things that Potter valued, including all the things that the Weaselette had that I didn't.

One way of another, I was going to get him.

I hadn't come all this way just to give up! All the worry, the doubts, the humiliation, my kiss with Blaise... No that could not all be for nothing. I wouldn't let it be.

Running the tip of the quill through my mouth thoughtfully, I pictured Potter in my head. I struggled not to let myself get carried away with the mental image, just to keep it simple. Potter wearing his ordinary clothes was too off-putting. The t-shirts with muggle slogans that he seemed so fond of hugged his biceps much too distractingly. How about Potter wearing his school uniform? Or better yet, his Quidditch uniform! Oh glory and thanks be to the inventor of tight fitting Quidditch trousers... Ok, no, school uniform it is.

What did Potter appreciate? What were his interests? I was looking for the things that were in his mind and in his heart that everyone usually took for granted about Potter. Those were the things that made him who he was and the things I was burning to know. Slowly the list started to take shape based on what I already knew about the Golden Boy. I tried to match each point with a resolution.

_Potter values honesty. This means that I have to STOP LYING... (As much as possible). _

_Potter values bravery. No more running away from confrontation. _

_Potter likes Granger because of her intelligence. So I will read ahead in workbooks and volunteer more answers in class._

_Potter hates bullying. I will stop picking on the first years, even when they are really easy targets. I will stop hexing people for retelling the ferret story (apart from Weasley because he is a special case). _

_Potter likes Weasley for his family and his friendship. (Potentially problematic)_

_Potter does not care for gifts unless they hold sentimental worth. Expensive does not always mean good. Take note of hideous 'Weasley jumper'._

_Potter is good at Defence against the Dark Arts. I will not be jealous of him when he gets top marks. I will also stop sneering at the werewolf. I will stop calling him 'The werewolf' and start calling him Professor Lupin. _

_Potter is brilliant at Quidditch. I will not be a sore loser... much. I will not begrudge him the fact that he looks like a proper international Quidditch player. I will focus all my attention on the snitch and not on how amazing he looks in his Quidditch gear. _

That seemed like enough to be going on with. Merlin knows I could have probably gone on for pages and pages but those seemed like the most useful points. I could definitely work with these. All I would need to do would be to show him that I embodied all of these sentiments that he approved of and voila! – Potter would be as good as mine!

I couldn't help but do a little sketch of Ginny Weasley on fire at the bottom of the page before setting it aside. Life at the moment wasn't what I'd call good, but it really was starting to look up. The hard part was out of the way now, surely. Everyone knew now that I was... you-know-what.

I sighed and stretched backwards into the chair. My eyes were starting to flicker closed as the fire burned softly to embers. The room was starting to feel comfortably warm now that my mind was at peace. Everything was going to be alright.

Feather soft and so lightly that I could easily be dreaming it, I felt something brush against the back of my head. It was a tender caress, fingers skating lightly over my hair. I sighed gustily and tried to picture that it was Harry Potter's fingers stroking my hair so fondly. It really did feel nice. It felt wonderful and relaxing and... _Real_.

My eyes snapped open and I spun around. Peering behind the chair, my eyes worked furiously against the darkness to find the person responsible. Nobody, except Pansy and mother, touches my hair. Maybe it really was Pans I heard coming down the stairs earlier...

No, the common room was empty and silent as the grave.

Trying not to feel disappointed, I huddled myself back into a ball and closed my eyes. The scrap of parchment was held loosely in my hand, folded untidily and slightly dog-eared. Still, that paper held my ticket to Potter's heart. Its connection to the Gryffindor by even the smallest amount made it precious.

Feeling much more calm now I had something to work with, I hugged my knees and snuggled further into the chair. It didn't matter right now that the whole school thought (quite rightly) that I was a faggot. I could deal with it in the morning. It didn't matter that Ginny Weasley probably had her claws firmly dug into Potter's flesh – I would soon shake her off.

A famous wizard once said "Nothing good ever comes easy."

I think I might be starting to understand what he means.

~O~

So, who do we think it was who opened the dormitory door?!

I really wanted to write a Draco-gets-depressed-and-drunk chapter, so I did! :D I was trying to think of how Draco would handle being humiliated in front of all his peers and I decided he would spend the evening getting smashed with his friends.

Thanks to EvERy oNe who has continued reading! **If you want more: **_**REVIEW**_**!!** :D


	6. Enlightenment

**Thank you all so much for the reviews! Over 100! **

**Important!** This point of view is **Harry's.** So many people requested it and so I thought it could be fun to write a one-off chapter written from Harry's perspective. While originally it is Draco's _story_, I am doing this as a chapter with a narrator change. It will pick up from just before when Draco kisses Harry in the Charms corridor. I think it only fair that I let Harry have his say – this is a onetime look into Harry's thoughts of that evening. Enjoy! :)

Without further ado, I present my longest chapter yet:

**Chapter 6 – Enlightenment** (Harry)

Was that...was he... No, he couldn't be getting _hard_ from _this_ – could he?

"Malfoy," I said as quietly as I could manage given that I wanted to scream. "Please tell me that is just your wand."

The answer to my previous question soon became apparent as I watched all of the colour drain from Malfoy's face. While usually he looked pale, he now looked like death. His eyes were wide and unblinking, his mouth open in shock. Or maybe it was embarrassment.

I could see how our situation was compromising. Our bodies pressed together smugly as if we were lovers enjoying a private moment. Everything of mine was touching everything of his. Hips, thighs, chests, feet...the only gap was the one between our faces. But the thing that was now pressing into me the most was the thing that I least expected to feel.

"I – I – It's not –" he spluttered. He was trying to shrink back from me, something made almost impossible by the fact that there was a wall behind him. "I mean...It isn't..."

But it very clearly was.

Experimentally, I leant forwards slightly so that...certain areas...of our anatomy pressed even tighter together. The delicate little shudder that passed through Malfoy's frame accompanied with the way he sucked in his bottom lip was answer enough.

Malfoy was getting turned on. By _me_. And what he had said before in the empty classroom... _I like you_! Had he meant...like this?

"Drake!" Malfoy's eyes snapped shut at the sound of Parkinson's voice again. I found myself feeling sympathetic towards him – I knew the drawbacks of having interfering friends. "Drake are you ok?" Malfoy twitched violently, causing our bodies to shake together. I hoped he wasn't about to faint again.

"Malfoy what the _hell_ is going on?" I hissed. I was trying to keep my voice calm and collected but failing miserably. I couldn't pretend that I wasn't angry. He had lied to me! Told me he liked me, ran away, told me he didn't like me, and then gotten hard when I was close to him. This boy was more confusing than anyone I had ever met.

His eyes locked onto mine, though they looked slightly glazed. His stance betrayed that he was fighting some kind of internal battle. I wished that I could look inside his head, to see what was going on in there. What was he thinking?

Then he did the last thing I think I would ever have expected him to do. I think the chances of me correctly guessing his next movement would have been a million to one.

Malfoy shut his eyes tight as if he was watching someone destroy his favourite possession.

And then he thrust his hips upwards like there was nothing else he would rather do in the world. The rather prominent interest in his trousers rutted into me, leaving me feeling little more than confounded. What was he _doing_?!

A groan escaped his lips as if he was mid-orgasm and his closed eyelids flickered. His mouth was a tight line of concentration and ecstasy.

My brain was going crazy. Like someone had set off a crate of Fred and George's fireworks inside my head. I never knew that I could make someone look like that. His face was a picture of bliss, every muscle in his face relaxed and yet filled with tension at the same time. He looked...amazing.

But then I began to hear it. The gasping and choking sounds of the people behind me. All along the corridor, people were staring at us with their mouths open and their eyes bulging in disbelief. The united thought was easy enough to interoperate. _Did Draco Malfoy just get off from Harry_ _Potter pinning him against a wall?_

It seemed that Malfoy heard the whispers too. His eyes fluttered open and the pleasure on his face was replaced with one of abject terror. He was looking straight at me as if trying to gauge how badly I would react.

I never noticed his eyes before. Sure, I knew they were grey, but I didn't know they could look like this. They were flecked with light blue; in the light of the hallway they shone almost silver.

He seemed to have frozen now, his whole body taunt and rigid. Some places more rigid than others...but I tried to keep those sorts of thoughts from my mind. He was blushing too. His face was shining like a flame, the pale cheeks painted red. His mouth was opening and closing as if he was trying to defend himself.

I waited patiently. The explanation from this would surely be worth listening to! Was he confounded? Under the Imperious curse? Had he swallowed a lust potion?

And then he kissed me.

Just leant straight in and kissed me. His lips were pressed against mine in an instant. I could feel all of his confusion, fear and humiliation in that one kiss.

His lips were softer than mine. Mine are chapped and bitten compared to his full supple lips. They were not moving against mine or trying to work a tongue past my lips. They were just...there, resting against mine.

I stared in horror at his closed eyes. What did he think he was doing? I had a girlfriend! I was straight! _He_ was straight!

I pushed him away from me sharply. The sound of his head connecting with the wall made me wince even as I stepped backwards. He didn't seem to notice. His face was devastated and overwhelmed at my rejection.

"Malfoy, what the _fuck_ –"

"Silencio!" The spell was aimed at my back so I could not see who had cast it. I had a good idea though.

My exclamation of "What the fuck are you playing at?" was cut short. My mouth continued to work furiously but no sound came out. Even if I could have continued talking, I don't think I would have. The look on Malfoy's face shocked me perhaps more than anything else had.

He looked utterly defeated.

~O~

Even after his friends had pulled him away from me and rushed down the corridor, I still stood gazing at the spot that Malfoy had occupied. Nothing was making sense.

I didn't even like Malfoy and up until this point I had been convinced that the feeling was mutual. Yet if you didn't like someone you didn't kiss them did you? Was this perhaps some plan of Malfoy's to lull me into trusting him? Was he just after information on the Order so that he could pass on the message to his father?

But no, the look on his face had been proof enough. He had _meant_ it. That was what scared me the most.

Ron and Hermione had fought through the gathering and gossiping crowds to my sides. Their reactions were predictable and not entirely welcome.

Ron looked like all his wildest dreams had come true. It was clear that in his opinion, nothing could be funnier than Malfoy crushing on me. I will admit that even I found it a little humorous. Who could have predicted that?

Hermione was chewing her bottom lip in anxiety. She was the first to speak when they reached me.

"We just heard – when we were coming out of breakfast – is it true? Did he really..." she faltered and looked away. "Did he really k-kiss you?"

Now it was my turn to blush. Taking that as an affirmation she frowned. "What do you think he means by it?" She asked curiously.

"It's obvious isn't it?" said Ron gleefully, rubbing his hands together looking cheerful. "He's a poof! Merlin, how did we not notice that before? His stupidly perfect hair and his handsom feminine features –"

"Are you sure he's the gay one?" Hermione grinned. Ron glared at her and then at me too when I started to snigger.

"You're both completely missing the point," he insisted as the crowds around us began to dissipate somewhat. "This is...this is bloody brilliant!"

"How so?" I asked shakily. My head still felt a little dizzy and full of cotton wool. Draco Malfoy _had_ just kissed me after all...

Ron looked at me like I had grown an extra head. "What do you mean 'how so'?" he spluttered incredulously. "This is perfect! All of those times he's taken the piss out of me for having a big family and not much money...well now we have something on him!"

"That's a little low don't you think?" I asked worriedly as we ascended the spiral staircase. "To mock him for his...erm...preferences?" I was blushing again. It was shameful that I couldn't even say the word 'gay'.

Just the thought that he might..._not hate_ me was strange. The idea that he might find me attractive was downright extraordinary.

"It's not low!" Ron said firmly. "It's justice being served at last! This is a gift beyond anything we could have hoped for, I'm telling you. And the fact that it's you who does it for him..." He broke off, a gleeful expression on his face. "It's even better."

"Why?" I asked in surprise.

"Because you're the one person who he will never ever have," said Ron, rubbing his hands together.

I tuned out the rest of the conversation.

Was that why Malfoy wanted me – because he couldn't have me? The little boy who had everything had finally found something he wouldn't be able to get. Was that it?

My hands clenched into fists by my side. Who did he think he was trying to mess me about? I had a girlfriend! I was straight! Stupid bloody Draco Malfoy trying to mess with my head. I'd show him.

Nobody tries to make a fool of me and gets away with it!

As we climbed through the portrait hole, I crossed the common room as quickly as possible. Many people tried to stop me along the way to ask about 'the Malfoy thing' but I brushed them off. I was a man on a mission.

Flinging open my trunk, I rooted through it, throwing out bits and pieces along the way. In amongst the general debris I found what I had been searching for. My map.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," I told the map earnestly. In a way, I was. Spying on people wasn't exactly the work of the angels was it? Needs must and all that...

I stared at the parchment hungrily. I would get him back for this. I would _so_ get him back for this. Nobody toys with my heart and then kicks it aside... Not even a Malfoy.

~O~

As the fourth Slytherin passed me going into the common room, I ran my fingers through my hair in frustration. This was the easy bit for God's sake! Honestly, my damn morals would be the death of me, I was certain...

How was I supposed to get my petty revenge on Malfoy if I couldn't even make it past the portrait hole? Not that I had decided what my revenge would be just yet...But I had plenty of time to work that out.

I could take only a few steps towards the entrance however before my morality stopped me. Spying was wrong. Who was I to sink to their levels? How did this make me different to any common Slytherin? Just because Malfoy was my enemy that didn't mean I had to sneak about and...

...What? Confront him? Punch him? Demand an explanation? I was truly undecided.

I snapped my eyes shut and tried to concentrate. I could do this. It wasn't a big deal; I was just blowing it out of proportion.

I was invisible, quietly determined and on a quest for the truth. They would never know!

Yes, I could definitely do this. I needed to understand what Malfoy was up to. It was imperative.

Just as I took another step in the direction of the portrait however, two pairs of footsteps came from behind me. Even though I was invisible, I still flinched as their eyes passed over me.

"He can't kick you out of your own dormitory Theo," Daphne whined plaintively, hanging onto the arm of Theodore Nott. "Draco will just have to deal with it. The girls and I need our own space to do girl stuff! "

"It's not like I'm asking to move into your room permanently Daphne!" he said, sounding exasperated. "It's just for tonight! Just until he's calmed down a little. You know what he's like. He'll sulk for a day or so and then go back to the horribly sarcastic Draco that we all know and love."

My heart leapt excitedly at the words. Was Draco really moping because I hadn't kissed him back? Did he really believe that I would be gullible enough to go along with his plan? I smirked. It would take more than a few puppy dog eyes and a fleeting kiss to get one over on me.

Nott rolled his eyes at the ceiling.

"Seriously Daphne, I don't want to be cursed for interrupting the guy when he's brooding. Let me stay with you just for one night. I'll even sleep on the floor..." I lost the rest of the conversation as they climbed through the portrait hole. So all of the Slytherins were giving Malfoy a wide birth were they?

It made sense I guess. When Ginny and I had started dating, the rest of the Gryffindors had allowed Ron to seethe for a cool off period of a week. I had never considered that perhaps the Slytherins had similar protocols...

Before the portrait could close behind Daphne, I stuck out a foot to wedge it open. Grinning at this small victory, I pushed it open slowly and slipped in after the two bickering teens. I had made it into the Slytherin common room.

Reminding myself that now was not the time for a victory dance, I moved forwards cautiously.

It could not have been more obvious that I did not belong here. The green lights flickering in torch brackets cast as eerie glow onto the stone walls which made me shiver. No self-respecting Slytherin would ever shiver at the _lighting_.

The many sofas and chairs looked like the ones in the Gryffindor common room. The dark green of the armchairs however, looked significantly out of place compared to the deep red of which I was familiar.

Mine and Ron's brief visit in second year felt much more insubstantial than it ever had before. How had I not noticed all of this...detail? Carvings of snakes bordered the walls on all sides, the worn rug that starched out beneath the mantle, the rich colours of the wall hangings...

Without really thinking about it, I strolled over to one of the black armchairs by the fire and flung myself upon it. It was comfier than I had imagined it would be.

A couple of girls by the window looked over in confusion as the seat of the chair sank with what was – to them – an invisible force.

The chair's cushion was tasselled, the stands of material quickly becoming threaded through my fingers. It was surprisingly relaxing to stroke the tassel. I wondered blithely how many of the Slytherins sat in this very chair and stroked this very tassel? Did Parkinson? Did Zabini? ...Did Malfoy?

Thinking about Malfoy suddenly brought it home to me what it was I was here for.

Extricating myself from the chair with slight reluctance, I made my way across the room. Which staircase was it? In the Gryffindor common room the girls were on the left and the boys were on the right...was it the same with the Slytherins?

I was not inclined to enter the girls' dormitory; I hesitantly made my way up the staircase on the right. It seemed however, that I was to be faced with another challenge.

The boys dormitories – or were they the girls? – seemed to consist of a labyrinth of separate stairwells and doorways. How on earth was I to find Malfoy amongst this maze of possible rooms? No separate staircase seemed to follow a distinct pattern that I could make out, all seemingly random.

Before long however, I decided to get on with it. Gryffindors were supposed to be brave weren't they? Well now was the time. If I walked in on Millicent Bullstrode getting changed, I may just have to claw out my eyes.

Screwing up my courage, I slid the latch up on the nearest door and stuck my invisible head around it.

I let out a relieved sigh. It seemed that this had indeed been the boys' dormitories. The room I had entered contained the usual four-poster beds with a lone third year boy lying atop the middle one. He looked up expectantly when the door opened and then puzzled when nobody that he could see came in.

After this, my courage grew slightly. I opened two more doors after the third year boy's. The first was filled with showers. The next was a cupboard. Merlin, how big was this place? In Gryffindor, each year of boys had one set of bathrooms with communal shower rooms attached. That was it. We also had nametags on the doors like sensible human beings.

I opened more doors, walking in a few fourth years and small cupboards filled with folded robes. So the higher the year group, the higher up their room? This was the only rational explanation I could think of.

I continued to climb the steps, relieved when my logic proved true – I passed the fifth year boys after climbing another flight of stairs. I almost walked right into a small fourth year boy as he descended the stairs, his head buried in a book. Stupid snakes, not looking where they were going!

With a sigh of irritation, I pushed open another door and stepped inside. It took me only two seconds to conclude that I needed to get out of there as soon as possible. It appeared that I had managed to locate the sixth years shower room. It was such a pity that it came complete with a showering Gregory Goyle...

Clapping a hand over my burning eyes I retreated, almost tripping over the hem of my cloak in my haste. That horrific image would surely haunt me to the grave...

Grabbing another door handle at random, I wrenched it open and stumbled inside. Closing the door as quickly as possible, I leant my head against the wood and drew in a few deep calming breaths. I never should have come into Slytherin. I was definitely not ready to observe the snakes in their natural habitat if the snakes in question looked at all like that one had...

"Theo?" someone giggled from behind me.

My eyes shot open under the cloak. The voice sounded almost familiar....like an old friend I had forgotten about. The clipped British accent hazed and slurred due to...alcohol? I turned around slowly.

The sight that greeted me would have been extremely funny if the situation had been different.

Three heads peered around one of the drawn back bed hangings, all stacked on top of one another, all staring right through me at the door. It was the people to whom the floating heads belonged to however that made me smile.

At the top of the pile was Blaise Zabini, his eyes slightly out of focus as he stared around the otherwise empty room. Pansy Parkinson was next down, her pointed chin resting on top of a blond head. It was Malfoy's hair that made me want to commit the scene to memory. The usually immaculate hair was looking entirely windswept and dishevelled.

He looked almost...normal.

After a moment or two more of silence, Pansy heaved a sigh of content and pressed a kiss into Draco's platinum locks. "Theo's is up in the girl's dormitory wrapped around Daphne," she said, even as the other two continued to look confusedly at the door. "Crabbe and Goyle are up there too, stalking poor Millicent."

Oh if only that were true... I rubbed my eyes again in disgust. Stupid Goyle, ruining my innocent mind...

"We have the whole place to ourselves," she continued. Again, this was not true. I smirked, wondering what sort of secrets these three ignorant Slytherins would reveal while I was in the room. Hopefully the incriminating kind. "Your dormitory is probably just haunted, D!"

Malfoy rolled his eyes and the three of them disappeared back around the curtain. I lost his reply as I scrambled to get a better position. I wasn't about to miss a conversation like this for the _world_.

As I moved further into the room, my foot hit something on the floor. The thing rolled away with a soft clinking sound so quietly that I don't think any of the snakes could have heard it. I breathed a sigh of relief and looked down.

It was an empty fire whiskey bottle, a slight trickle of amber liquid dripping out of the end. So the trio were not only under the impression that they were alone but they were also drunk out of their minds. My smile almost split my face. This was going to be _so_ much fun...

I settled on the bed next to the one that they were laying on, my feet dangling over the edge in case I needed to make a quick getaway. I wondered vaguely whose bed I was sitting on. If it was Goyle's... I shivered in revulsion. I didn't think it was though. If a bed had a troll like him lying on it each night there would surely be a crater in the mattress.

I turned my attention back to the three blissfully unaware Slytherins.

I followed the ceaseless banter for a while, some parts making me grin more than others. So Pansy fancied the muggle studies teacher did she? And Blaise was raised by his mother?

To my annoyance, the one subject they seemed to be trying to avoid was the one I most wanted to hear. What was Malfoy planning for me? Was the plot intended to snare me so they could flog me to the Death Eaters? Thoughts such as these threatened to consume me.

Finally – at long last – it seemed that Pansy either could not contain herself or she had consumed too much alcohol to care.

"He is pretty though, isn't he?" she said hazily, waving the fire whiskey bottle is slow circles around Malfoy's head and making him go cross-eyed. "You and Potter would look so hot together... If you ever do get together I am the first person you tell ok?"

All the air dissipated from the room. The only thing left in my lungs seemed to be cotton wool. _Get together_? Parkinson thought that Malfoy and I would ever _get together_? It took all of my self-control not to shout her down. The girl was deluded!

"Yeah, well, there's no c-chance of that now is there?" said Malfoy crossly. "He hates me more than ever!"

In an ideal world, I'm sure that I did hate him just as much as he seemed to think I did. I used to! Now...this fuzzy haired drunken Slytherin boy was not the one I was familiar with. This innocent looking seventeen-year-old wizard was so much harder to hate than the Malfoy I knew and loathed.

"It's not too late," Pansy said reassuringly, her fingers working through Malfoy's hair. "There's still a chance. We can always make a new plan. Besides you and Potter would be incredibly hot..."

I knew it! I knew there was a plan involved! Malfoy is plotting to get me, just like I had originally thought. I knew I should have just trusted my instincts...

I listened out eagerly for more information about this so-called 'plan' that they had been employing against me. What was the purpose? If everything up until now had been believed, it would seem that part of the plot would be hoodwinking me into liking Draco Malfoy! But let's face it – that is never going to happen.

"You really think that two guys together is sexy?" Blaise chipped in, sounding slightly anxious. Parkinson and Malfoy both sat up and grinned ear to ear.

The chorus of "YES!" almost blew me away. This was just getting more and more confusing. Malfoy was straight, wasn't he? I remember his rather public breakup with his Ravenclaw girlfriend last year. So what was he doing thinking about boys like that? And why was he trying to seduce me?

He was laughing now, loud uncontrollable drunken laughing. It was hypnotic. I realised in that moment that I'd never heard Malfoy laugh in all the time I had known him. Not properly anyway. He had laughed at Hermione when her teeth had gotten hit by that curse and he frequently laughed at Ron and I for money or parentage but... It had never been like this.

Blaise was smirking at his friend who was still chuckling hysterically. He rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, "You're such a girl, Draco."

Parkinson was giggling too, though her laughter was punctuated with loud and squeaky hiccups.

It dawned on me that neither Parkinson nor Zabini seemed to be as drunk as Malfoy was. Though both of their faces seemed deeply relaxed and amused, their laughter did not reach the level of insanity that Malfoy's did. Was he drinking more that the other two? Or was he just a lightweight? I hoped it was the latter. Just knowing that maybe Malfoy wasn't good at everything would be enough to make me happy.

Parkinson's eyes suddenly lit up as if a light bulb had popped over her head. Both Malfoy and Zabini were eyeing her warily in the same way that Ron and I do when Hermione brings up SPEW.

"Draco," she said, nudging him in the ribs. "I have the most brilliant idea in the history of brilliant ideas!" This sounded an awful lot like the time when Ron had been convinced that he could do a handstand on his broom. In other words, it had an ominous feel to it.

I could think of lots of brilliant ideas. Slytherin being banned from the Quidditch cup, Snape being sacked, Gryffindor winning the house cup and Voldemort just buggering off were among them. But when Parkinson said that she had a 'brilliant idea' it made me feel slightly sick.

"Kiss me Draco!" she whispered loudly.

I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.

Malfoy couldn't kiss Parkinson! He just couldn't! For some reason the idea made me feel angry. It was so very wrong. Everyone knew they were friends! And friends don't kiss friends! That would be like...I dunno – me and Hermione. Ew.

Zabini seemed to think the same thing. His eyes had widened, his jaw was slack and the fingers wrapped around the whiskey bottle had turned white. He was breathing very hard through his nose as if to keep from shouting. I'm guessing it bothered him about as much as it did me...

_Don't do it Malfoy_! I thought furiously. _Don't do it_! I can't even explain why it was so important, only that it was. It even took me a moment to realise my slip up. Since when 'Malfoy' become 'Draco'? My eyes were trained on Dra–_Malfoy_ who was leaning propped up on one elbow, his other hand caressing the neck of the bottle.

His mouth was open in an indulgent smile in the same way that Aunt Petunia looked at Dudley when he had used his felt-tip pens all over the living room walls. It was the grim smile of someone who has to deal with a difficult toddler. Understanding and tolerant.

"Oh no!" he said happily, spilling some of the drink over himself as he leant away from her. "I'm not falling for _that_ one again!"

_Again_? AGAIN?! What does he mean _again_? This horrible pixy-ish girl has forced herself on him before?!

I suddenly realised what I was thinking and took a mental step back. Where had that internal monologue come from? I didn't own Malfoy; he was free to do what he liked. Whatever it was he wanted – I was fine with that. Why wouldn't I be? I didn't care for Malfoy's interests at all. He was a small, nasty, snobbish, ferret who belonged with snakes like Parkinson.

Yet the alcohol-intoxicated boy who sat swaying in front of me did not look like a ferret at all. He looked kind of...nice. Which I know is impossible as its still Malfoy but hey, the guy did look pretty good.

"No you idiot," she said with a certain amount of fondness. "Just to see if you really are gay! If you kiss me back, all of this stuff about you liking Potter is utter garbage and we celebrate that you are straight! If it does nothing for you, I hug you, and we celebrate that you are gay!"

_All this stuff about you liking Potter_... The words echoed around my head loudly, though their meaning was still difficult to grasp. Draco...Malfoy...liked me? As in, he actually liked me for me? Not some cocked up plan? This was actually...real?

But it couldn't be real. The idea that Draco – Malfoy damn it! – kissed me in the Charms corridor because he _wanted_ to, not to get something out of it...well, it was bloody amazing.

The second part of Pansy's sentence was starting to catch up with me. _If it does nothing for you, I hug you, and we celebrate that you_ _are gay_! This was not something I'd have thought would ever be admitted by Slytherins, even in the company of their fellow snakes.

Malfoy was _gay_? This wasn't the by-product of some potion or charm? It wasn't just a passing fancy or an attempt to humiliate me further?

As stupid as it sounds, it was only then that I actually got it. Something just went click in my brain. Everything was starting to come together.

Malfoy – Draco – had been afraid of seeing me hurt in Defence against the Dark Arts class. My death was his fear because on some level he _cared_ for me. All the weird intense looks in the Great Hall had been...something else. The avoidance... oh Merlin. I remember when I first discovered that I liked Ginny. Seeing her with Dean was far too painful to be around so I started to keep away from her. Had Malfoy been doing the exact same thing?

A strange heat seemed to have settled in the pit of my stomach. As odd as this sounds – and believe me, this will sound odd – just knowing that the messy haired blond in front of me was getting drunk beyond belief all because I hadn't kissed him back made me feel something that I've been craving my entire life.

It made me feel _wanted_. Sure, Ginny wanted me, but that was different. Ginny had liked me before I had even met her, liked me for my name before she had liked me for just being me. But now there was _this_. A boy who had previously thought he was straight fighting off attraction to his worst enemy?

For some reason, that made my body tingle.

Momentarily forgetting where I was, I banged my head on the nearest bedpost to me. Malfoy looked over in confusion and I held my breath. Did he hear that? A few seconds later however, he gave a small shrug and turned back to Pansy.

Pansy. Of course – she had just offered to... kiss him. This made me feel a bit funny, like maybe I shouldn't be watching any more. This was starting to get too personal. Did Pansy like Draco? Did Blaise like Pansy? Or worse yet...did Blaise like _Draco_?

Even as my head told me firmly that it was time to leave, my body remained rigid and unmoving. Malfoy's expression was what kept me seated. He looked as though he might be..._considering_ it.

"What if it doesn't work because it's you?" he said finally, pushing his hair out of his eyes and sitting up. "I've known you almost my entire life, since we were babies – it would be like incest!"

A huge feeling of relief flooded me that I didn't quite know what to do with. It should not matter to me who Malfoy kissed. It was his decision and had nothing whatsoever to do with me... or at least it hadn't until tonight.

Maybe I could leave now, safe in the knowledge that Malfoy would not be snogging Parkinson tonight.

But what was the point in lying to myself? I couldn't have left now if my life depended on it.

The look on Pansy Parkinson's face made me smile grimly. She looked a bit too disappointed that her suggested experiment had been shot down for it to be based purely out of friendly concern. "Good point... Damn it, It was such a good plan too. Oh no, wait, I've got it! You don't kiss me, you kiss _Blaise_!"

WHAT?! I wasn't sure if it was one of the boy's voices of my own panicky thoughts that shouted out that one incredulous word. Draco kiss Blaise! That was worse than Parkinson.

I waited expectantly for Malfoy to tell her 'no'. The seconds stretched on and Malfoy didn't say a word. He was sipping at his drink innocently, and if I didn't know better I would say that his expression was almost...hopeful.

Blaise was mumbling things such as "Sorry Pans, I'm not drunk enough for that yet," and "For God's sake Pansy I'm straight!"

"How do you know?" she shot back. "Draco thought he was straight too until –"

"Hey I am straight!" said Draco unconvincingly, trying to frown at the other two. "It's not like I have a thing for boys, I just have a thing for Potter..."

My heartbeat picked up speed. He had a thing for me?

"Yes well," said Pansy dryly as she unearthed a fresh bottle of fire whiskey. "It's because of your 'thing' that you're in this mess to start with isn't it D?" she patted him on the cheek condescendingly.

When Draco's eyes shut and his breathing became laboured Pansy stopped her incessant persuasion of Blaise and pulled Draco into a hug.

My eyes widened incredulously. Pansy Parkinson was trying to act the caring Slytherin? Nope, I didn't buy it. Slytherins were not _thoughtful_ or _sensitive_. They were evil and manipulative. But why would they be pretending now? There was no one around to witness it. Well, except for me.

"Sorry Drake, you know I don't mean it..." Whatever other sentiments she was about to say were cut off as Blaise threw a pillow at the both. They giggled and broke apart.

To both Blaise and my dismay, Pansy then resumed her continual babble encouraging the two boys to just 'suck it up and kiss each other'.

Blaise threw some of the liquid into his mouth and swallowed it with a grimace. He rolled his eyes as Pansy began chanting 'Kiss him! Kiss him! Kiss him..."

"Oh for the love of Salazar!"

And then he kissed him. Right on the lips, his hands cradling Draco's face. His eyes were shut tight compared to Malfoy's own which were wide with surprise. He looked taken aback even as his friend's lips moved in time with his.

It seemed that due to some unknown force, I could not remove my eyes from the sight before me. It should have been disgusting, mortifying, repellent...but it was nothing short of erotic. As much as I loathed myself for thinking it, the sight of two boys together was arousing.

It was in absolute alarm that I felt my trousers tighten uncomfortably and my pulse quicken. What the fuck was wrong with me?! It wasn't even me being kissed, I was just one of the perverts watching it happen!

_I had a girlfriend! I was straight! I was with Ginny_! Funny how all of those things were starting to seem more and more like excuses rather than reasons...

Blaise's tongue was trying to work past Draco's lips tentatively. I wasn't sure that I wanted it to or not. On the one hand, anything that caused me any more discomfort further south was a very bad idea. I was, after all, in a room full of Slytherins and being discovered while in a situation such as this would surely be worthy of the death penalty. But on the other hand...

Blaise's tongue was now coiling together with Draco's, the latter leaning forwards into the other boy's body. And then...

"God _Haaaary_..."

I choked on thin air, a tiny rasping cough coming out of my throat.

_My_ name. He just moaned _my name_ into someone else's _mouth_. Was he thinking of...was he imagining...what I had just been trying _not_ to imagine?

Blaise fell backwards onto the pillows behind him and wiped a hand across him mouth looking relieved. He looked at Pansy hopefully, as though searching for approval.

"Well fuck me if that wasn't the hottest thing I've seen in a while," she said breathily. "I think it's safe to say that its only Potter that gets that heart of yours beating!" She winked at Draco.

"Yeah," he whispered, tracing a finger over his lips in wonder. "It _is_ just Potter. Thanks Blaise – excellent kiss by the way."

Just me – he reacted like that for me and only me. It was enough to make me light-headed.

"Look at you, out of the closet at last!" Blaise sniggered good naturedly, tugging the bottle out of Pansy's loose grip. "It only took three and a half bottles of fire whiskey, a sexually charged run in with your nemesis and a snog from your best friend to make it happen! Merlin, we should get you drunk more often!"

If getting Malfoy drunk meant that more revelations like the ones that had been voiced tonight, I definitely seconded Blaise's suggestion. Hell, I had leant more about Draco Malfoy tonight than I had in six years!

"M'not drunkkk..." Malfoy muttered irritably from where he lay face down on the sheets. "M'just gay..."

He shot up so fast that it almost made me fall off the bed. Was he _trying_ to give me a heart attack?

"Did I...just...did I just say..." he looked terrified and disbelieving.

"Uh-huh," said Blaise helpfully.

"Holy Craaap..."

I was confused (yet again). Hadn't we already established the fact that Malfoy was...gay? Hadn't that little nugget of information been dropped a while ago when he moaned the name of a boy into the mouth of another boy?

But then again, maybe it was just because it was the Slytherins I was observing, not my fellow Gryffindors. Gryffindors never kept all of their emotions bottled up, wary of revealing even the slightest secret. Gryffindors were reckless and proud and wore their hearts on their sleeves... perhaps that was why I was such a model Gryffindor. Because all of my feelings were so uncontrolled. Hermione often says that my face says more than my mouth ever could.

"Who would have thought it? I'm gay for Harry Potter!"

_Thud!_ Merlin... maybe it's not just my emotions that are uncontrolled. At the abruptness of this statement, my arm jumped out to the side and knocked off a lamp on the bedside table. Stupid muscle spasms giving away my position!

"What is with all the inanimate objects coming to life tonight?" Pansy asked jokily even while I held my breath. "Maybe it's because you admitted you liked Potter for the first time Draco. What is it you said before? That it 'wrecked the cosmic balance'. I'm starting to think you might be right!"

Blaise had slid off the bed and was now standing right in front of me. My heart felt as if it would pop out of my chest in worry. What if he just reached out and accidentally touched me? What if I was found here, sitting under my invisibility cloak, watching three Slytherins getting drunk and talk about me? They would skin me alive whether they were drunk or not.

I scrambled backwards across the bed as he bent down to pick up the light that I had knocked off. It was probably _his_ light. This meant that this was probably his bed. I scurried away from him while trying not to wrinkle the sheets. It didn't matter that I was invisible; he would still plainly be able to see if the duvet started moving.

For a second or so I did think his eyes flicked directly to where I was crouching, but before I could do more than pray to God, Draco called something to him. I have no idea what he said; only that it caused Blaise to turn and answer him.

In the time that his back was to me, I darted off the bed and to the space before the door. My heart was beating rapidly. By the time Blaise turned around again I had a clear view of his face. It was frowning in confusion. Even as Pansy and Draco began chatting away to each other again, Blaise reached out a hand and waved it in the air _exactly_ where I had just been. He blinked and shook his head then went back and joined his friends.

I leant my head back against the wall and slid all the way down to the floor. That had been way too close. I wondered what Draco would say if he knew that I had heard every single word he had said about me. I wonder if he's faint if I told him that the evidence of my interest was still torturing me inside my trousers.

~O~

I don't know how long I sat there, listening in on the conversations that followed. As I was in many of them, my face continually heated up and then drastically paled in equal measure. I treasured one of these particular times more than the others...

"He's actually fucking gorgeous! No, more than that! What comes after g-gorgeous?" He asked Pansy impatiently. I smirked with my eyes shut tightly, savouring the words. He thought I was gorgeous? Draco Malfoy thought that I was gorgeous? Who could have predicted that?

"Amazingly, breath-taking-ly, stunningly sexy?" she said giggling. My eyes fluttered open in time to see his head jerked up and down as he nodded madly, pointing a shaking finger at her.

"See, you – you understand," He said breathlessly. "A-anyone can see that Potter is a _God_... He's practically – Hey!"

At this point I had thought 'hey!' as well because as much as I wanted to deny it, I just couldn't honestly say that I wasn't enjoying myself immensely. It feels nice to have someone say nice things about you!

"No more drink for you," said Blaise, trying to remove the bottle from Draco's pale fingers. As they fought for it I saw much of it tip out and flow freely into Draco's mouth and down his robes. "I don't practically want to hear about how good-looking you find the Golden Boy. We all know you don't carry your liquor so well Draco."

He clutched at his chest as though in terrible pain. "Me?!" He shouted, ignoring the laughter this gained from Pansy and the sympathetic look it earned from Blaise. I couldn't help the small splutter of laughter that slipped out of my own mouth but thankfully it was covered by Pansy's. "I could drink you losers under the table any fight...right..._night_." To emphasise this he snatched the bottle back to his lips again. "And besides, if I _want_ to drink away this horrible gaping hole inside of me, who are you to stop me? I've just tried to hump the-boy-who-lived in front of most of the school. I think that gives me the right to get pissed, don't you?"

I felt strangely hollow at these words. I _had_ pushed him away hadn't I? That episode in the hallway seemed to be a lifetime ago. I had rejected the one person who seemed to like me unconditionally; who was able to look past all my faults...even the fact that I was the wrong gender didn't seem to matter.

And I had pushed him _away_.

Even as I watched on helplessly, pearly droplets of moisture escaped from under Malfoy's closed eyelids. He was crying. I had made him cry. I had rejected him and made him cry. Oh God, I felt so wretched. I had never made anyone cry before and now the first person it ever happened to was one of the few people who had ever liked me enough to kiss me!

Pansy brought Draco into a hug, her tiny arms encircling him like a mother with a young child. Their relationship seemed so pure and natural...more so even than Hermione's and mine. But perhaps they had known each other longer, spent more time in each other's presence...

"Draco!" Blaise, Draco and I all jumped as Pansy began squawking. "Draco Draco Draco!"

"Wha S'matter?" he asked groggily, wiping tears out of the corners of his eyes. I was thinking along similar lines myself. How did a person go from calmly sedate one minute to hyperactive the next?

Blaise looked uneasy. "No I will not kiss Draco again," he said firmly.

"Don't be silly," she said quickly, the gleam in her eyes saying otherwise. I felt quite certain that Pansy Parkinson had almost all of the Slytherins wrapped around her little finger. If she wanted to, she could make both of her friends kiss again. As disgusted as I was with myself, I half hoped she would.

"What you on about?" asked Draco wearily. The tears had gone now but the pink cheeks and tear tracks remained. He began running his fingers over her sock clad feet, tickling her. Who knew that Slytherins tickled one another?

"Draco," she said joyfully as she bounced up and down in anticipation. Even I found myself leaning forwards slightly to hear well. "I have a sixth sense!" The answering laughter was enough to tell me that this was not true. I was however slightly curious. Had she predicted that Draco would get hard in the middle of the charms corridor by being pinned to the wall by Harry Potter? Or had she just predicted that the three of them would get drunk tonight?

"Remember when we first met Draco? The first ever time?"

Malfoy spat out a bit of the drink he had been about to swallow in a very undignified way. This stupid little human gesture made me smile. He wasn't such an arse as he would have everyone believe. "Vividly," he said with a scowl.

"Do you remember my first ever words when I saw you?"

Probably something along the lines of "So you're my future husband?" if the rumours of pureblood traditions were to be believed. Neville had told us that most purebloods had arranged marriages from birth. His Gran had had his broken when he was five. I wonder if Malfoy was betrothed to anyone...

"'Oh Mummy, look! He looks like a fairy!' and I was right wasn't I?" she said with a wicked grin.

Both she and Blaise collapsed on the bed in hysterics, eyes watering with mirth. Even I was trying not to laugh too loudly. I wasn't laughing at what Pansy had said though, as funny as it had been. No, I was laughing at Draco's face. He was looking down at the two giggling idiots with defiance mixed with a scowl. His eyebrows were raised as if to say 'are you done now?'

"Oh Hilarious," he said, echoing what I was thinking. "Some friends you are! 'Just because he's gay we reserve the right to call him a fairy'. Alright, laugh it up..."

Was he being unintentionally funny? The Draco Malfoy I knew never applied such dry humour into conversation. Where were the cutting comments? Where was the name calling, the famous sneer? What the hell had happened to him?

"You won't be laughing later when you're hanging from the ceiling by your toes!" He pointed his upside down wand at them sternly.

For an insane instant, I felt like ruffling his already messed up hair. I wanted to look deep into his eyes and just reassure myself that the same old Malfoy was in there somewhere. What would he do if I threw off the cloak and tried to carry out such madness? Would he hex me into oblivion? Would these confusing new feeling that he apparently had for me prevent that from happening? Would he be so pleased to see me that he would drag me to him and kiss me again?

The last thought caused a snort of laughter to escape me. After what had transpired today, I was sure Malfoy would never come near me again.

Did I even _want_ him to? And if I did, what did this mean?

I raked a hand through my hair, thinking frantically. The same thoughts that I had been mulling over for the last hour came back to me. The most blatantly obvious thing I had to think about was Ginny. Ginny Weasley, my best friend's sister, the girl I was dating, the girl who loved me...

She loved me. Did Malfoy love me?

No. Definitely not. We had been enemies for six years, he hated me... Or at least, he _had_ hated me. It appeared that he was now starting to like me. I banished the warm fuzzy feeling of glee that this brought me. Now was not the time to examine such things. He'd only kissed me once in a moment of desperation and confusion. So no, not love.

_One – nil _to Ginny then.

~O~

It was getting late now.

The clock on Blaise's bedside table showed that it was twenty to twelve. Late. Ron and Hermione would wonder where I was. I hadn't told them earlier on what I planned to do when we made it back to the common room. That was partly because I didn't want them to come with me and partly because I wasn't sure myself. I had never been expecting _this_.

That I would be sitting on the cold floor of the Slytherin dormitory on my own private stakeout. That I would observe what I assumed to be Draco Malfoy's first gay kiss. How was I to have known that in a few hours time I would be trying to ignore the burning sensation between my thighs because of how interesting I was finding all of this new information...?

Every time I got up to leave, something invariably caught my attention and forced me to stay.

How could I leave when Draco fell off the bed and got helplessly tangled up in the curtains?

How could I bear to go when he and Pansy began to sing along to all of the unpopular wizarding songs in loud voices?

How on _earth_ could I wrench myself away when they began putting mascara on the sleeping Blaise?

It was completely impossible. For some reason that I could not bring myself to locate, I was hooked. Every genuine smile, every raised eyebrow, all the hiccups and yawns and beautiful sighs of tiredness that escaped Draco... they were fascinating.

I wasn't even going to pretend that I was leaving anymore. I just sat in my corner and watched and watched and watched.

Malfoy's face was covered in Pansy's lipstick, sloppy pink hearts and declarations of homosexuality littering his pale skin. It made him seem so vulnerable, so open and so...drunk.

"I'm not leaving this room ever," he breathed, his eyes fighting the urge to drift shut. "Never ever, ever; will you stay here with me?"

"Of course. I will always stay with you."

He smiled gratefully, his soft pink lips curving upwards in gratitude.

"I'm so sorry that I encouraged you to go after Potter," said Pansy sincerely, her tone begging for forgiveness. "This is all such a mess isn't it?"

"You could say that," he murmured bitterly, and I was inclined to agree with him. My life was so much more complicated than it had been yesterday. "Pans..."

His tone changed, growing hesitant, reluctant...scared. I shuffled toward the bed a little more to get a clearer view of his weary face. He looked so...lost.

"Do you ever think...that maybe...Do you ever think he'd grow to like me?" All said in such a rush, with such trepidation, as though needing to get the words out.

My heart beat quickened. If only he knew...

"He'd be a fool not to Draco," said Pansy soothingly, doing what my own fingers ached to do as they swept stray locks of hair from his lipstick-covered forehead. "If he can't see how brilliant and witty and amazing you are he doesn't deserve to have you..."

My eyes slipped shut rather than see Draco's hopeless expression.

I was starting to see what Pansy meant. I didn't deserve someone like that. I was only just starting to see the other side to Draco Malfoy, one I had not even known he possessed. Now that I saw it for real it was affecting me in inconvenient ways.

The most problematic thing of all was that I was starting to want it.

I wanted the new Draco, the improved Draco. This boy lying side by side with his friends was a boy I could quiet easily get used to. It was just a boy named Draco who liked a boy named Harry. It was not a ferret named Malfoy who hated the Gryffindor called Potter.

I relaxed against the wall behind me and surveyed the sleeping bodies. So unperturbed and peaceful in sleep...why did they feel the need to hide away their true selves from the world?

These drunken pureblood teenagers were slowly starting to grow on me.

~O~

When Hagrid told me that I was a wizard and would be coming to Hogwarts, I was filled with an all-consuming happiness. It was a warm comfortable feeling that went from the top of my head right down to the tips of my toes. It was just amazing.

I've felt the same feeling on occasions since that moment, like when I first rode a broom and when I saw my parents in the mirror of Erised.

And now I was feeling it again.

I know I shouldn't have strayed so close to the sleeping Slytherins for fear they might wake up but this was far too exciting to listen to reason. A delight that had been long in hibernation was starting to flare up again inside of me.

It was Exhilarating.

"_Harry_..."

A flood as happiness washed over me again. Draco Malfoy talked in his sleep. A lot. To start with, I had been horrified when my name fell so easily from sleeping lips; sure I had been caught. But then he had sighed my name one more time and rolled over.

He was dreaming of me.

The chill of the dungeons was replaced with sudden blazing warmth.

I was in his dreams. Maybe this was even a frequent thing. The idea was a dazzling one. It was unbelievable, it was –

"Please, Harry, more..."

As unadvisable as it was, I couldn't restrain myself as I moved closer to the sleeping blond. As softly as I could, I perched on the edge of the bed. His body seemed to emit a warm aura that enveloped me in heat the moment I entered it.

As he continued to murmur little bursts of "Oh Gods Harry! Please..." I leant closer still. I could hear his quiet breath that was starting to sound more and more like panting as his slumber continued. His face was very symmetrical; features that had before seemed annoyingly perfect were now something to admire.

Did his friends get to see him like this all of the time? Why did that make me jealous?

I wanted to be closer, closer...closer.

Draco was two inches away, one inch away, one centimetre away... We breathed the same air. His breath smelt of mints and fire whiskey and apples. I inhaled deeply, trying to commit everything to memory.

"Harry...." he whispered into my face. My answering grin must have surely stretched from ear to ear.

"Draco," I breathed back happily. His jaw slacked into a sleepy smile.

Feeling as though I would explode from any more excitement in one night, I silently slid off the bed and made my way back to my previous position on the floor. I daren't settle on Blaise's bed for fear that I would drift off to sleep. What would I do if I slept through until the morning and I was still stuck in the Slytherin dormitories?

No, I would definitely leave tonight. Not yet though. I'd give myself just a little longer. I felt I owed it to myself.

~O~

My eyelids seemed to be getting heavier and heavier with every passing moment. It was a miracle I was still awake at all. Every sensible thought in my head was geared to getting me to wake up and get back to Gryffindor tower ASAP. Spending all this time in the dungeons was a bad move. I couldn't fight sleep forever!

Every time I tried to heave myself to my feet, Draco would let out a little moan and a series of quickened breaths. The strong and yeaning beg for me to go "faster, Harry, faster!" was not something I could just walk away from now was it?

Anyone who could just get up and abandon _that_ either deserves a medal or a slap around the head, I'm not sure which.

Merlin, what was happening to me?

"Stop it Draco...get off me." Another voice had joined the fray. Was Pansy awake? I hadn't taken the cloak off once since I had been here so I had no qualms about her seeing me.

Sure enough her dark brown eyes blinked owlishly through the gloom. She was wiggling and tossing about as though trying to free herself from something. When I saw what that something was I had to work hard to contain a laugh.

Draco's arms had wrapped completely around her and he was grinning in his sleep like a lunatic. The little whispers of 'Harry, Harry, Harry' did not go unnoticed by either of us. I saw her roll her eyes in irritation.

She jerked roughly away from him but the strong limbs were unyielding, pulling her flush against his body. If I hadn't been _straight_ and had a _girlfriend_ who _loved_ me, I would have most likely been jealous. But I wasn't. Not in the slightest.

"Don't make me do something I'll regret Draco," she growled through the darkness.

The sleeping blond in her arms sighed breathily and snuggled his face closer into her neck. The dark eyes flashed in warning.

"Draco you have exactly five seconds to get away from me before I castrate you!"

I chose to ignore the incoherent scream of 'NOOO!' that was currently my mode of thought. Thinking thoughts such as these did not bode well for my mental growth.

Malfoy's eyes had snapped open as he hurried to put some distance between himself and Pansy as possible without falling off the bed again.

"Quit molesting me in my sleep Draco," she muttered irritably, rolling over so that she was closer to the makeup clad Blaise. Draco's face was priceless. He looked mortified and annoyed at the same time. He lifted up the covers slightly and peered underneath as though checking something.

I flushed darkly when I realised what that must be. No one could have a dream with a person's name mentioned that many times and not feel...the side effects.

Malfoy seemed to be thinking the same. He face was tinged with pink and he put a hand over his eyes briefly as if to dispel his embarrassment.

He twisted around so that his feet hit the floor with a soft slapping noise. The small sound was terribly loud in the otherwise silent room. He stood up so quickly that he made me wince. If he didn't get a head-rush from doing that I'd throw myself in the lake!

Sure enough, both of his hands flew up to his head as he groaned and swayed on the spot. What an idiot. Of course he would have a hangover when he woke up! Did he really forget about the unpleasant results of drinking four bottles of firewhiskey?

His fingers were scrabbling in the cabinet beside his bed, tearing open drawers and rummaging inside. I wonder how he could do it with his eyes screwed shut as they were... Did he get drunk often?

Unearthing the tiny vial of hangover potion, he downed the entire lot and waited a few seconds for it to kick in. I waited too. I watched, waited and barely breathed.

He looked so tired still. His eyes had an exhausted look to them as though he was ill. What was he thinking of? Was he still thinking of me?

Without my permission, my eyes flickered down to below his waist. It was very clear that his body at least was still thinking about the dream. I blushed and looked away quickly. Even if he couldn't see me looking it was still wrong... They were only so many underhand things I could do in one day. Breaking into Slytherin and eavesdropping on the three of them was already pushing the limits. There was no need for me to be a pervert as well.

However much I resented it though, I couldn't deny that I wasn't a little pleased. I mean, it's nice to know I could affect someone like that. Ginny may like me, but I doubt she dreams of me. I doubt her boggart is off my mangled body either.

I turned back to watching Draco again, determined not to look at anything other than his face. I could afford him some civility couldn't I? Why – wait a moment. Why was he slipping his shoes on? What was the hooded jacket for? Where was he going?

He seemed to have reached some kind of decision without me being aware. It felt odd to be left out in such a way when I had been observing and hearing his thoughts all evening.

Like a ghost he swept across the room to the door.

As the material of his trousers brushed against the fabric of the cloak I let out a shaky sigh. What choice did I have but to follow him?

~O~

Thankfully, it seemed that Malfoy was not in the mood for a long walk tonight. Our journey took us only to the cold and empty common room where Malfoy settled into one of the chairs.

It was the exact same chair I had been sitting in earlier, the thought filled me with a huge throb of excitement. I reminded myself sternly that this meant nothing at all. It could have been coincidence that he sat in that chair and even if it wasn't, it still didn't mean anything. It's not like we had some sort of weird link...

...Except I had to rethink my opinion, as Draco reached out and brought a cushion to his lap. The _tasselled_ cushion...which I had been stroking only a few hours earlier this evening. It sent strange shivers down my spine to watch Draco caress the tassel so lovingly as though it were an old friend. Did he sit down here often when he could not sleep? All alone?

_Not alone tonight_, I reminded myself. _He's with you_.

Yes...we were alone together. Just like earlier today when we had been in the abandoned dungeon classroom together. The way I remembered it, it seemed like it had all happened a thousand years ago.

His hand suddenly closed in a fist over the tassel as though he wanted to hit something...or someone. Draco's lips were pursed, his eyes alive with murderous intent. Hermione and I often joked that this was his 'Weasley look' as he used it on Ron all the time. Was he thinking about Ron?

In an abrupt movement that I was not prepared for, he got to his feet and stalked across to one of the few worktables. It was piled high with numerous textbooks and parchment scraps and reminded me of the places that Hermione so often dwelled. Fishing out a battered quill and the cleanest of the parchment pieces, Draco went back to his chair.

I watched him curiously. Oh what would I have given to be able to hear his thoughts right now...

He ran the feather of the quill though his mouth – once, twice, three times – before tapping it against his chin absently. I followed the feathers progress with a greedy gaze. It was sick and wrong to want to be that feather. Sick and wrong.

The self-inking quill touched the parchment lightly as Draco's hand hovered over the page. It was as though he was pondering what to write. I too was interested. What could cause a man to get up at one o'clock in the morning?

The shadow of a grin fell across his face. I felt myself smiling in response. It was good to know that he could smile naturally while not under the influence of alcohol. It gave me hope, though for what I do not know. Merlin knows that that smile is unlikely to be directed at me anytime soon...

Words soon began to ink over the page in Draco's neat script.

1) _Potter values honesty. This means that I have to STOP LYING... (As much as possible). _

_2) Potter likes Granger because of her intelligence. So I will read ahead in workbooks and volunteer more answers in class._

The hand with the quill stilled, as though waiting for more inspiration to strike. I stared down at the words with barely concealed amazement. It was...a list...of resolutions? About _me_? Or to be more specific, about Draco. The _new_ Draco. The Draco that he was trying to be. But it also seemed like a plan. A plan to seduce me? The thought of it should not have made my pulse flutter as much as it did.

_3) Potter values bravery. No more running away from confrontation. _

I walked around so that I stood behind Draco's chair and then bent down so that I was reading over his shoulder. It felt strangely intimate to be so close to him while he was awake. His breath was coming in little huffs as he tried to think of something more to write.

It was odd to think that he was thinking of me while I was right here beside him, my face a mere breath away beside his.

_4) Potter hates bullying. I will stop picking on the first years, even when they are really easy targets. I will stop hexing people for retelling the ferret story (apart from Weasley because he is a special case). _

I almost laughed at that one. Almost. The ferret story did seem to hold a special place in the hearts of many of our fellow sixth years...

_5) Potter likes Weasley for his family and his friendship. (Potentially problematic)_

I could definitely see his point there. Would I truly want my lover's parents to be Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy? But then again, when would Draco ever be my boyfriend? I had Ginny! I didn't even like boys that way. Not even beautiful blond haired vanilla and apple smelling Slytherin boys.

_6) Potter does not care for gifts unless they hold sentimental worth. Expensive does not always mean good. Take note of hideous 'Weasley jumper'._

He remembered what I was wearing at Christmas?

_7) Potter is good at Defence against the Dark Arts. I will not be jealous of him when he gets top marks. I will also stop sneering at the werewolf. I will stop calling him 'The werewolf' and start calling him Professor Lupin. _

I didn't even know that people _were_ jealous of me for getting top marks in Defence. Or was it just Malfoy? Trust him to think of something so trivial as that...

_8) Potter is brilliant at Quidditch. I will not be a sore loser... much. I will not begrudge him the fact that he looks like a proper international Quidditch player. I will focus all my attention on the snitch and not on how amazing he looks in his Quidditch gear._

Wow. Where did one even begin to start analyzing that? Draco however, did not give me a chance to ponder the fact that he liked me in my Quidditch uniform. He had begun to draw a small sketch at the bottom of the page with such obvious relish that I leant forwards and craned my neck to see what it was.

Had the small girl on fire not been labelled as 'The Poor Weaselette Girl' I was such I would have had to look at it for hours to work it out.

He really wanted to set my girlfriend on fire?

This should have been the part where my protective and devoted instincts kicked in. It should have been an automatic turn off (not that I was turned _on_ or anything) to see such resentment towards Ginny. But it didn't. I made me feel..._guilty_. Like I was somehow betraying Malfoy by being with Ginny. Which was crazy, as I didn't owe Malfoy anything. What was that all about?

Draco sighed and leaned back into the chair. All the tiredness from earlier seemed to have caught up with him. He folded the list and curled a fist around it protectively.

It felt like the fist was clenching my heart, not the faded yellow paper.

Tentatively, I drew back the folds of invisible material so that my trembling right hand was revealed. It was, I knew, a horrible risk. I risked exposing myself to Malfoy by pulling off this little stunt. But I just _had_ to. I had to touch him before the night was over to reassure myself that it was all real. That it wouldn't all fall apart when I made it back to Gryffindor tower.

I reached out...and touched him.

It was the first time that we had had contact that was neither aggressive or ended in a fumbling kiss and unfortunate humiliation. This was...different.

My fingers stroked his hair in the same way that his had stroked the tassel. Gently, softly, like I was trying not to disturb spider webs. His hair felt silky and smooth, softer and nicer that mine but just as thick. I yearned not only for him but for his shampoo.

The head under my delicate touches relaxed into my hand as though in a state of bliss. It was obviously one of his more sensitive places. I congratulated myself for the excellent find.

Just as suddenly as it relaxed however, the neck and shoulders stiffened. Knowing what this must mean, I jerked my hand back and whipped it under the cloak just as Draco spun around in the chair. His eyes were wide and frightened looking, flicking back and right, searching for the person who had stroked his hair.

I held my breath for perhaps the hundredth time that evening, wondering if he would let it go. It seemed he did. He let out a gusty sigh as though in disappointment. Did he really want to find some intruder in his common room? I could help him out with that...

I toyed with the idea of throwing off the cloak and standing before him in all my messy-haired glory. I wanted to see him smile, or faint, or maybe just laugh and convince himself it was a dream. I knew deep down I would never have the nerve to pull off a feat like that though.

It just wasn't something I could bring myself to do. Why should I wreck whatever Draco was trying to do before he had even begun doing it? It would be like sabotage.

I looked warmly at the crinkled parchment. He was trying to be a better man. For me. He was trying to change his life for _me_. It was incredible. I couldn't ruin that for him.

I would watch. I would wait. I would observe over the next week or so and see if this new Draco Malfoy was the one who had revealed himself to me tonight. The Draco that was now soundly asleep in the chair.

I touched his hair lightly one more time and walked quietly over to the portrait hole.

I couldn't resist the urge to look back though, just one more time. His peaceful sleep-relaxed face made me grin at him fondly. "Good night Draco," I whispered into the large Slytherin common room. "Sweet dreams..."

~O~

This is over 12 thousand words – Go me! As always your reviews drive my desire to churn out chapters!

So this is Harry's take on things. I felt it only fair that Harry give his side of the story. Is it better or worse than Draco's?

Thank you for reading, the next chapter will hopefully be coming along quicker than this one. I broke my foot yesterday and am now curled up in bed with my laptop writing chapter 7. Please fill my inbox with reviews! :D


	7. Consequences

Wow, _so many reviews_! I am so pleased that lots of you left me comments! :D

Because I am feeling kind, I am posting this chapter sooner than I had planned. It's also being posted because I am bored of being immobilised by my bloody broken foot and I need something to cheer me up. So read and enjoy! :)

**Chapter 7 – Consequences **

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was how incredibly stiff and aching my neck was. For the first few moments after I regained consciousness it made no sense at all. Why would my neck be stiff when I was asleep in bed?

I didn't open my eyes to start with, preferring to adjust slowly to this new situation. Today was a school day wasn't it? So why had I not waken up to the customary pillow thrown at my face by Blaise? Where were the usual early morning sounds like Theo shouting at Crabbe for using up all the hot water in the showers?

This was very odd. Had someone moved me from my bed in the middle of the night?

Last night was a curious blank in my mind, a mess of dark and hazy actions that made my head hurt to think about. Merlin what had I done?

I flicked my eyes open to try to discern if I had awoken in the hospital wing or somewhere equally similar. I found that when my eyes opened, the room I awoke in was strangely dim, no harsh lights blinding my sleepy eyes.

Then I started to notice my surroundings. Black armchairs, green sofas, an old stone fireplace and a chill that reached the bones; It could be nowhere else other that the Slytherin common room. Waking up in a chair on a Monday morning can sometimes disorientate you.

Had I really fallen asleep down here in my armchair? As my neck clicked profusely, I took it as confirmation.

Come to think of it, everything in my body was kind of aching: Neck, shoulders, back, thighs... It was as if my muscles were treating me to a full-body workout. Perhaps it was simply the angle at which I had slept, but I was inclined to blame the chair.

As vertebrae in my back popped when I yawned, I scowled. Right, that was it; I was never sitting in this wretched chair ever again!

I uncoiled myself from the chair with difficulty as my muscles seemed to have all set into fixed positions.

I probably looked immensely odd, unwinding my limbs with clumsy and awkward movements to extricate myself – I was extremely grateful that I was the only person down here.

But by Merlin my head hurt! What had we done last night? It felt like I'd been hit with a beaters bat about fifty times.

"Draco?" Two voices were calling me from upstairs, one getting increasingly more frantic. I sighed and stretched my hands out in front of me. Was that Pansy and Blaise? What was Pansy doing in the boy's dormitories so early in the morning? Had she stayed over last night?

I rubbed my temples wearily. The voices were growing louder and more insistent. I had to roll my eyes. My friends were so annoying sometimes. "_Draco_?!"

"M'down here," I called hoarsely, my voice rough from sleep. I had only just spotted the faded yellow parchment clutched in my hand during sleep. The Potter Parchment.

Oh... _That_ was why I was downstairs. I remembered that. I tried not to touch the back of my head where the imaginary hands had been last night. It didn't do to dwell on dreams.

I brought the parchment to my lips once then, with a small smile, tucked it into my pocket.

There were hurried footsteps on the stone staircase before Pansy burst into view, jumping down the last four steps. The look in her eyes made me back away a step so that the backs of my legs hit the chair. She looked...foreboding.

When she caught sight of me, Pansy shrieked. She had crossed the common room in two seconds flat and flung herself at me. This consequentially knocked me backwards into the armchair that I had only just managed to free myself from. I gritted my teeth and barely restrained myself from dumping her straight off my lap and onto the floor. I learnt a long time ago that brushing off a hormonal Pansy is similar to a near-death experience.

"Oh Draco, thank Merlin!" She was hugging me tightly enough that I thought my eyeballs might pop out. I wanted badly to ask what was going on but Pansy's hair was in my face and I didn't want to risk a mouthful of curls. "Are you ok? What did they do to you? Name some names Drake and I'll get them!"

She was actually rolling up her sleeves, I noted in bemusement. Who was she going to...'get'?

Seemingly needing the reassurance, I muttered the words "Pansy, I'm fine," over and over again.

She suddenly sat backwards and the expression on her face melted from one of relief into one of rage. The girl who had only moments before been hugging me now began to pinch and hit me in earnest.

Completely taken aback by this sudden change, I yelped and tried to push her away from me. She was as immovable as rock.

"Ouch! Pans what is the _matter_ with you?!"

By the way the dark eyes flashed, this was the wrong thing to ask. Blaise and I often find it best to just sit back and take Pansy's punishments with no questions asked. It normally works out for the best and ends quickly once she has tired herself out. But now, damn it, it was bloody early on a Monday morning! I wanted to know what I had done to merit ruthless pinching!

"We didn't know where you were!" she shouted as her talons continued to nip my arms. "We just woke up alone in your bed and where were you? Gone!"

Oh... That.

"We thought someone from seventh year had got you like what they did to Daniel Bishop last year!" I winced as I remembered this unfortunate time. Bishop had out-ed himself last year when his relationship with a seventh year Hufflepuff boy became known. The reaction from Slytherin house had been...most discouraging.

"They wouldn't do that to me," I said, a little uncertainly, beginning to feel the first stirring of trepidation in my stomach. "The house only reacted that way because it was with a _Hufflepuff_..."

Pansy's eyes were still unforgiving. "What about what Flint did to Antony Kingston in fifth year when he got drunk and started snogging some Ravenclaw kid at the Yule ball?"

"An accident," I said nervously. "He could have fallen down the stairs at anytime –"

"He didn't fall!" she yelled at me, her hands gripping my arms painfully tight. "He was _pushed_!"

"Well I'll just have to stay away from the stairs, won't I?" I muttered. This comment did not even make contact with the fierce being that is Pansy.

"I can't believe you just got up and left us in the middle of the night like that! We thought they'd lynched you! We thought something terrible had happened to you!"

Urgh, I hate it when she makes me feel guilty. I know she was just worried about me, concerned for my well-being, but she didn't understand how necessary the Potter parchment had been. I had needed to get all of these feelings out of my system. Even if I was still, you know – gay – at least now I had a plan.

A plan that was going to work.

Luckily, she seemed to have exhausted her considerable ranting abilities. She climbed off me after only a few more half-hearted nips to my skin. It was at this time that Blaise chose to reappear. He had evidently been waiting for the shouting to stop before he made an entrance. I narrowed my eyes at the huge fake yawn and cheesy smile.

"Coward," I grumbled as I climbed out of the chair for the second time and made my way over to where he was standing. "It didn't occur to you that you might have been able to calm the beast before she tried to rip my throat out?"

Blaise dropped the pretence and grinned at me. "And get caught in the firing line? I am a Slytherin, Draco, not a ruddy Gryffindor!"

I flinched like he'd hit me.

"Don't talk to me about Gryffindors this early in the morning," I moaned. To be perfectly honest, Pansy's words had shaken me. Up until this point in time, I had been repressing thoughts about what had happened to the previous Slytherin faggots. Now that I thought about it however, Slytherins' behaviour did seem slightly...fear inducing.

"Merlin Draco, what happened to your face?" Blaise asked with a chuckle.

What on Earth was he talking about? Nothing was wrong with my face...was it? Maybe some Slytherins _had_ got me in the night after all...

I marched over to the cracked and speckled mirror that hung above the fireplace to examine my face. Pansy placed a hand over her mouth in apparent distress.

A smudged scarlet heart took up most of my face with the red words 'Fairy Boy' emblazoned on my forehead. The events of the previous night were starting to come back to me now. The alcohol, the kiss, the laughing...the _lipstick_. Stupid bloody girls and their cosmetics!

"Oh yes, about that..." Pansy started, fiddling with the end of her plait looking suddenly nervous. "It might be slightly...long lasting." My mouth had become incredibly dry. _How_ long lasting? Was I going to arrive at double potions with hearts on my face?

"How long?" I asked in a deadly whisper.

"Well, see, its suppose to go on your lips – I mean who would want to buy lipstick that came off straight away right? That would just be silly! So this is very –"

"How _long_?"

"We put it on at about half twelve last night, yeah? So that makes it...just over an hour."

"_What_?!"

"Don't worry! I've got some stuff upstairs that should get it off, it's these little cleansing pads that I had to use that one time that Daphne –"

"Pansy! Get. It. Off. _Now_."

"Right," She said, looking flustered. Pansy began to pull me towards the girl's dormitories, muttering assurances the whole way. "It will come off you know. It _does_ come off. Daphne once said –" But I didn't get to find out what Daphne had said because Pansy didn't get to finish her sentence.

We had only been about twenty steps up before the staircase had suddenly straightened out to form a colossal slide sending us both zipping down it. Both of our screams merged until we landed in a heap at the bottom.

There were a few seconds where we both struggled and wiggled, trying to untangle our limbs. Pansy had landed mostly on top, which had knocked all the breath out of me.

"I forgot it did that!" Pansy said cheerfully, her voice muffled against my chest. "That was so fun!" Had I not been coated in sticky blotchy hearts, I might have just lain on the floor and groaned at the sheer weirdness of the situation. As it was however, I wriggled out from under her and pushed her none too gently in the direction of the slide.

"Pansy, stop laughing and help me _fix this_," I gestured at my face, "before people start coming down to breakfast!"

"Right," she said with a wicked grin. The slide was morphing back now, the steps slowly oozing back out of the stone. Pansy began to climb up them at an agonisingly slow pace. Merlin I loathed her sometimes.

Soon it was just Blaise and I waiting in the common room. I was determinately not looking at his smirking face. I thought I might punch it if I did. This day was supposed to be extremely important for me! It was my first day after I had unofficially 'come out' in front of the school. I could not spend my first true day as a gay man walking around with lipstick on, no I could not!

Finally, Blaise didn't seem to be able to contain himself any longer.

"You look like a girl's handbag threw up on you."

I groaned. Blaise's jokes are truly terrible. I cuffed him round the head for being an idiot. It was totally deserved.

"And you hit like a girl."

I snarled and shoved him away from me. He was just provoking me now! When you're little, adults always tell you 'Don't poke a sleeping dragon in the eye'. It is one of the first lessons that you learn as a kid isn't it? So why doesn't Blaise Zabini get the moral of the saying – leave grumpy people alone.

"As hormonal as a girl too I see," said Blaise, rubbing his shoulder from where I had rammed him out of the way. "How did I ever think you were straight?"

There is only so far I can be pushed.

When Pansy emerged from the girl's dorms a minute and a half later, she found Blaise sprinting around the common room away from me. I know that chasing after people is undignified. My father had forbid me from playing childish games such as 'tag' with Pansy by the time I was six. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

When I saw Pansy holding out a little sachet of magical cleaning wipes however, all other thoughts fled my mind. As I lunged for the packet, she held it behind her back.

"No D, I get to do this!" Only a girl such as this could look so utterly delighted by the situation we were in.

This is why, ten minutes later, we fled back to the boy's dormitory and locked the door. Pansy began to scrub at my face vigorously with the rough pieces of cloth until my skin felt raw and tender.

"Is it all off?" I asked anxiously as the last bit of cloth was used up and discarded. "Is it all completely gone?"

Pansy said "Yes" at exactly the same time that Blaise said "No". They were both looking shifty and avoiding my gaze. I threw my hands up into the air in frustration. Why was I cursed with such friends? Greg and Vince were not this much work, I'm telling you.

I held out my hand for Pansy's mirror. She picked it up but did not hand it over to me, tapping it against her hand looking worried.

"You can't see it anymore Draco," she assured me. "It's practically invisible. You'd have to be really close up to see it properly..."

I snatched the mirror from her grip. I didn't like it when people used the word 'practically'. 'Practically' means nothing. It is the same as 'basically' and 'virtually' and all those other words that sound reassuring but don't actually guarantee anything.

I looked into the mirror.

I shut my eyes then opened them again to see if the image had changed. It hadn't. A ghostly pink heart completely encircled one eye, looking like I was about to perform on stage.

It could have looked worse I suppose. She had actually done quite a good job on the rest of it. 'Fairy Boy' was completely gone as were most of the hearts. All that was left was the shadowy red heart that went right around my left eye. I looked like a porn star or something equally dreadful.

"Good enough," I conceded. Kicking up a fuss wouldn't help matters. At least it wasn't visible to anyone over a meter away. You'd have to come close to me to see it – within punching distance. Both my friends let out little sighs of relief.

"Time to get ready for breakfast Drake," Pansy said cheerily, tossing some robes at me. "This is your big moment!"

"Pansy, stop saying that!" I hissed as I disentangled myself from the robes she had chucked over my head. "This day is no different to any other day, alright?"

"Yes it is!" she insisted, bouncing up and down on my bed. "This day is hugely important!" I gritted my teeth as I began to take off my sweatshirt. Why couldn't she just play along for the sake of my sanity? What I needed to hear her say right now was 'No Draco, it doesn't matter. You'll be absolutely fine.' Telling the truth is definitely overrated.

"You'll be fine Draco," said Blaise confidently as he ran a comb through his black hair. "I don't think the rest of Slytherin will be too hostile. I mean, it's you, isn't it?" Did Blaise just...read my mind? I grinned. This is what I needed. A bit of moral boosting!

Pansy made a little 'hmmm' noise that clearly indicated she did not think the same. "Well as long as you keep off the radar," she said slowly. "I hope that people don't give you too much trouble..." I sighed and gave them both a true smile. Thank Merlin for Pansy and Blaise.

"But I still think we should be celebrating," she went of thoughtfully as she began digging through my trunk. "I mean you only come out once don't you? How about instead of wearing the school shirt under your robes, you wear this?" She had pulled a pink shirt out of my trunk and was holding it out to me pleadingly.

I took the proffered shirt feeling confused. "Pans, this isn't mine."

"Well I might have put it into your trunk a few days ago when you told us about the Potter thing. You know, just in case you wanted to try a new look or something. I had to enlarge it slightly, and made the arms a bit longer..."

"This is _your_ shirt?" I threw the thing away from me as far as I could. It hit the wall by Theo's bed with a soft 'thump' before dropping to the floor. "I am not wearing a girl's shirt underneath my school robes. Not now, not ever. Understood?"

Pansy grumbled and muttered before going over to collect the crumpled up shirt.

I began to strip off my white shirt from yesterday. I threw it aside in distaste noting that it stank of alcohol. Blaise whistled at my half-naked state mockingly so I threw the closest thing at him. So what if it happened to be a heavy textbook? It's not as if I chose it on purpose...

Avoiding Pansy's repeated attempts to stick me in the pink shirt, I began to get ready for the scariest thing I had ever had to prepare for in my life: facing the rest of the world.

~O~

To my surprise, we made it out of both the dorms and the common room without being accosted by any Slytherins. This in itself was a small miracle. All eyes were on us when we finally made it downstairs and a few people made hissing sounds, but hey, it could have been _so_ much worse.

"So far so good," Blaise muttered under his breath. "We got out of the snake pit argument-free."

"Chin up Drake," said Pansy bracingly, tilting my face upwards with her thumb and forefinger. "We're purebloods, remember?"

"Pureblood...right..." The words felt sticky in my mouth, like treacle, forcing me to give myself a little shake. _Pureblood_. I am a pureblood. _Duty first, love second, never let them see your pain_. "Never let them see your pain..."

Blaise offered me a weak smile. "That sounds like something Lucius would say," he said softly. That was probably because Father did say it. He drilled it into me so thoroughly when I was a child but now that I actually had to do it, had to put it into practise... Impossible.

"Let's go," I muttered, leading them up the stone steps that led out of the dungeons. "Let's get this over with." I had my hand in my pocket, gripping my wand painfully hard. The moment I came into contact with Weasley – or even better, the Weaselette – I would hex on sight.

"Draco, is it true that –"

The second year Slytherin boy didn't get to finish his question as Pansy had stunned him faster than we could blink. When we shot her surprised looks, she shrugged. "My aim is getting better, don't you think?"

I shook my head with a grin. Trust Pansy to make me feel better...

"As great a gesture as that was," said Blaise with a chuckle, "I don't think we should leave a trail of unconscious students behind us. Shouldn't we try to keep it clean, as much as possible?"

"Just think of it as...anger management." Pansy said happily, hitting her wand into the palm of her hand. "Besides, we haven't had any fun in ages – at least now we have an excuse."

"And what is the excuse for hexing second years?"

"Oh come off it Blaise! That kid was _obviously_ about to insult Draco! I merely intercepted him before he could." Blaise raised him eyebrows at me and I shrugged dismissively. If Pansy wanted to go on a jinxing spree, I think we should let her. Two thirds of her victims probably wanted to taunt me anyway... Who was I to stop a witch having fun?

"Feel free," I said, watching as Pansy's face lit up with joy. "Whoever you like except the Weaselette – she's mine."

We stepped over the boy's fallen body and continued down the corridor as if nothing was wrong. And really...nothing was. There was nothing wrong with a little harmless hexing...was there?

Wait...did this interfere with my list? I pulled out the yellow parchment and unfolded it quickly.

_Potter hates bullying. I will stop picking on the first years, even when they are really easy targets. I will stop hexing people for retelling the ferret story (apart from Weasley because he is a special case)._

I growled and stuffed the list back into my pocket. This wooing Potter thing was such hard work! Even though he wasn't here and would be unable to see if I hit McMillan with a leg-locker, it seemed like he would still _know_.

Scowling, I stuffed my wand back into my pocket.

~O~

"Ready?" Blaise asked as we stood inches away from the doors to the Great Hall. We had arrived late due to the lipstick fiasco and Blaise and I having to restrain Pansy from hexing a first year Hufflepuff boy. Even we aren't _that_ cruel.

"Or course I am," I said curtly, even though I definitely wasn't. How do you prepare for something like that? Sitting down to eat with hundreds of homophobes after I had made a move on their beloved Chosen One? It was like offering myself to be sacrificed.

"Come on then D..." Pansy squeezed my hand and then pushed open the doors to the Hall.

The noise that had been so loud and swelling a moment before suddenly died as we entered. It was as if someone had turned down the sound. We made our way quickly forwards, heading for the Slytherin table. Pansy was tugging on my slightly sweaty hand, pulling me insistently alongside her and Blaise.

"Draco!" The girlish voice, shrill with rage, echoed through the Great Hall. As many people in the hall had begun calling out to me, though albeit quieter that she, I ignored this one too.

The repeated call of my first name caused me to stop walking abruptly and Pansy's hand to slide out of mine. I recognised the voice now, of course. After listening it to it harp on at me in sappy tones for months and then snipe at me with insults for longer, I was an authority on Rachel Samuels' voice.

"Draco!" My angry ex-girlfriend yelled my name yet again. I could hear her footsteps even as I stared resolutely at the floor. She was coming to talk to me. No, better yet, she was coming to yell at me.

Even as she stopped in front of me, I couldn't bring myself to look up. Instead I examined our shoes. She was wearing ridiculously shiny black heels that would not look out of place on a stripper. One of her feet was tapping impatiently, waiting for me to look up. I am an expert at disappointing people.

After a few tense seconds of silence between us, she hissed my name again. I looked into the face that was filled with so much confusion and fury. Long brown hair, dark green eyes and high cheekbones reminded me all too well of what I was giving up. I was giving up girls. And boy was she angry.

"Draco fucking Malfoy!" she shrieked in my face, teeth bared as if to rip out my throat. Half of the hall had paused to listen. Great. Well I wasn't about to let this witch walk all over me – no way. I may be gay but I still have my pride!

"That's what my friends call me," I said smoothly and watched as her face contorted even more. It gave me a little boost that a few people at the Slytherin table were sniggering at my words. All was not lost...yet.

"Is it true?" she whispered furiously. Her eyes bore no hint of sadness, only anger. Her next words were much louder as if she was crying them to the heavens. "Is it true you're a faggot?"

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other in unease. The fury of my ex-girlfriend was something to behold.

No more running away from confrontation, remember? Perhaps simply diverting it would be acceptable.

"Rachel, can't we do this outside –"

"No, we cannot!" she shrieked. "How long has it been...how long have you been..."

"Gay?" I whispered, barely moving my lips at all. The word was spoken no louder than a breath. In my head it echoed. "Is that what you were about to ask? How long have I been gay?"

Time was moving slowly again. Almost every eye in the hall was on me – and not in the way I had always imagined. It was not in a good way. Even a few of the fucking _teachers_ were watching.

We stood regarding each other for a while, each contemplating the other. The moment that I had said my previous statement I wanted to retract it. My mouth was opening and closing but no sound was coming out.

Rachel seemed to make up her own mind based on my silence.

"Oh Merlin...you _are_! Is this why you wouldn't sleep with me? Because I'm a _girl_?"

I tried to reign in the blush that had begun to stain my face and neck. White hair and fiery red face is not a good look. No matter how desperately hard I tried, I could feel it burning my cheeks. She wanted to talk about that _here_, now?! In front of everyone?

People from all the tables were beginning to giggle now, hiding their faces behind their hands or grinning like all their dreams had come true. It must be said that most of the grinning and laughing was centred from the Gryffindor table. I wondered if Potter was laughing too. Was he maybe snorting into his hand or panting with hysterics? I didn't look over at them. I didn't want to risk meeting Potter's eye.

"I didn't sleep with you because I didn't want you like that." Lie. I had been afraid she would regard me in the same way that she views the whole world: with 'constructive' criticism. "I'm sorry." Another lie. I really wasn't sorry. "It wasn't you..." But it was.

While I was being careful to keep my voice barely audible, Rachel's voice could be easily heard by everyone in the hall.

"But you loved me!" she screamed. I was reminded unpleasantly of a cross between a banshee and an angry veela. At Rachel's words, Pansy laughed from somewhere behind me. Both she and Blaise had been present at our rather dramatic breakup. Laughing at a time like this did nothing to ease the situation. "Were you lying to me? Did you _ever_ love me?"

What was the point in lying now? All the lies I have ever told always come back to bite me on the arse. Why not try a new approach? Telling the truth even fit in with my Potter list.

"No."

_Slap!_

Rachel's hand flew up and smacked me straight around the face. My head snapped to the side with the blow, my cheek smarting. There was a chorus of 'oooh' from the rest of the female population which made me want to hex every last one of them, consequences be damned. Had all the girls in the world gone completely mad?

"I've never said 'I love you' to anyone except my family!" I spat, finally starting to fight back. I could hear Pansy egging me on from the sidelines and Blaise trying to restrain her. "I've certainly never said it to _you_!"

_Slap!_

Another slap to the same cheek. My day was just getting better and better wasn't it?

"Never hex a girl, never hex a girl..." I murmured to myself to prevent rising a hand or wand back at her. If she had been a guy...I would have decked her by now.

Her Ravenclaw friends were starting to group around her now, ganging up on me. Attack of the angry witches would have probably been scarier if I hadn't spent my entire childhood and teen life growing up with Pansy. She and Blaise were standing at each of my shoulders now, ready to fend off more slapping girls. And who says Slytherins are not a loyal bunch?

"Lay a finger on him again and you'll be seeing the wrong end of my wand Samuels!" Pansy said with a grim smile, holding her wand up a little too eagerly.

Rachel looked at the three of us with a spark of wicked amusement in her eyes. "Malfoy, Parkinson and Zabini," she drawled. "What a group! The pureblood faggot," she sneered at me, "The rejected lover," she said, eyeing Pansy with distain. "And the current one," she said nodding to Blaise.

_Crack_!

Pansy's fist smashed into Rachel's face, with a sickening crunch. Who would have thought that someone that small could pack such a punch? As happy as I was that the confrontation was over, I winced as I saw the blood running freely from my ex-girlfriend's nose. I knew how much a broken nose hurt.

"Stay away from me," I hissed mutinously as Blaise began pulling both Pansy and I back to our house table.

As we all dropped into empty seats, the people nearest to us edged away, sneering. To my surprise, Theo shook his head and rolled his eyes before scooting up the bench to sit with us.

"Idiots," he muttered, taking the marmalade that Blaise had just reached for. "They're all idiots. Don't let it bother you Draco."

"Thank you," I murmured gratefully. This sentiment from Theo was unexpected but pleasing all the same. It brought my current totally of friends up to three. Taking two apples from the nearest bowl and shoving one of them into my pocket. I began tossing the other from hand to hand nervously.

How could the people around me actually be feeling hungry right now? I felt sick with apprehension, sure that this was the lull before the storm.

The talking was beginning to start up again now. People were either staring at Rachel and I or talking about us to their friends. At least there were no more catcalls.

"Draco, what's that round your eye?" Theo asked interestedly, pausing between mouthfuls of toast. If I had thought my ability to blush had been exhausted due to the previous confrontation, I was mistaken. The familiar warm feeling was creeping across my cheeks, making me avoid making eye contact with anyone.

"It's none of your business," I snapped warningly. I snatched up a spoon and peered into the back of it. My pale face – completely with faint lipstick smudges – stared back at me. My hair was a fucking nightmare too.

"Can I tell him Dray?" Blaise asked, looking at me beseechingly. "He won't laugh...much."

"No, I'll tell him," said Pansy bossily. "If you do it, you'll make it seem like I'm the bad guy in all of this."

"You _are_ the bad guy," I said through clenched teeth. "You're the one who put it on me in the first place!"

"But I didn't realise it wouldn't come off did I?" said Pansy exasperatedly. "Besides, you did it to me too!"

"Yes with ink, not with ruddy lipstick!" I put the spoon down so that was not tempted to throw it at her.

"You weren't complaining last night Draco!"

"That's because I was drunk beyond belief!"

"And whose fault was _that_?!"

We paused, both breathing hard, to glare at each other. Our relationship is often quite a volatile one, but it runs deep and is all encompassing. How can you not fight with people who you consider along the lines of siblings? If you've ever met Pansy, or know her like I do, you'll know it's impossible not to bicker with her. It's just the natural response I think.

Theo was watching us as though he was observing a duel, his head flying back and forth to watch us. "How do you deal with this?" he asked Blaise, sounding slightly in awe.

"Years of practice," said Blaise dryly, twirling his fork idly between his fingers. "When they start up I just go to my happy place."

A place filled with Pansy, alcohol, chocolate and broomsticks no doubt. Mine used to be filled with music, home, Quidditch, potions and impressing my father. Why had all that suddenly shifted? My ideal place was now anywhere that Potter dwelled, preferably the Quidditch pitch or maybe in the changing room showers...

I glanced over at Potter to see if he was gossiping away as happily as everyone else seemed to be. To my surprise, his head was resting on his hand, dark shadows under his eyes. Even as I watched, his face twitched open into a yawn, trying half-heartedly to conceal it with the back of his hand.

Why did Potter look as equally tired as Pansy, Blaise and I? It seemed that he had missed out on several hours of sleep, perhaps only bedding down for an hour or two. What had he been doing?

Or maybe the question should have been _who_ had he been doing? The Weasel girl sat by his side, picking at her scrambled egg with disinterest. She moved closer to Potter as she finished talking to a fellow Gryfindork girl. I watched in dismay as she placed a hand on his forehead, obviously asking him is he was feeling well. Potter seemed to dismiss this question with a small wave of his hand, clearly muttering something reassuring. The Weaselette gave him an odd look before nodding and placing her hand over his on the tabletop.

Harry looked at her for a moment then turned his head and looked right at me. The stare did not hold any of the anger or confusion it had yesterday – I guess it was now very obvious why I did what I did – now the glance was questioning, searching, like he was asking me a question with his eyes.

In my mind, I imagined our silent conversation as the Weaselette continued to paw at him.

_Does this bother you Malfoy?_

_You know it does. _

_Because you like me?_

_Because I want you. Because I'm better for you. Because I hate the Weaselette._

I fought against the urge to vomit. She was touching his hand in public, in front of me! It seemed like Ginny Weasley had a death wish. I looked away from his eyes with haste. I didn't want to taunt myself with what I couldn't have.

More to give myself something to do than anything else I reached into my pocket and brought out the Potter list again. I slipped it onto my lap and unfolded it. Nothing I had written last night linked to the Weaselette. Well, apart from the little sadistic sketch of her on fire, but that didn't really count.

Maybe I could accidentally set her on fire as she walked down an empty hallway? But no, that would clash with the bullying rule. Maybe I could slip her a love potion so she would lust after Snape for an afternoon...that would surely shake Potter off, wouldn't it? Thought that would feel far too much like cheating...

"Earth to Draco, is anybody there?" Someone was waving a hand energetically in front of my face.

"What?" I said blankly to Blaise as he let his hand fall. Why was he interrupting me from my thoughts?

"Time for Potions mate," said Blaise, handing me my school bag. "Don't want to be late again..."

The class that I usually looked forward to the most had to be one of the classes we shared with the Gryffindors didn't it? "Ok," I said dully. I took as much time as I could before I left my seat, checking my bag for all the correct potions books twice. In truth I didn't want to arrive a second before it was necessary to Potions. Standing outside the classroom with a group of homophobic Slytherins and a bunch of Gryffindors was not appealing. I would much rather be late and get a detention than arrive early and start another fight.

Under my friends exasperated looks and admonishments to hurry up, I reluctantly gave in. What was the point in stalling the inevitable?

~O~

We arrived outside the dungeon just as the last student was slipping inside. Severus paused in the action of shutting the door when he saw us.

"Parkinson, Zabini, Malfoy... You are very _nearly_ late." He said imperiously. I offered him a few mumbled apologies while Pansy and Blaise did the same.

My godfather stared at me for a few moments, his lip curling into a smirk. He looked a little too perceptive to me. Did _everyone_ know about the Potter thing? We scuttled past him and into the room. Just as we were heading over to our usual bench on the Slytherin side of the room I stopped. Some of the Slytherin girls who giggled when they saw us had taken out table. They were watching eagerly to see what we would do.

The only table left was at the far side of the room on the Gryffindor side. We would be sitting with the Gryffindors. Seated with the enemy. Working beside Potter and his super annoying friends. I groaned and held onto Pansy so that she would not be tempted to hit her fellow dorm mates. Those slimy little seat stealers.

The Golden Trio were on the desk to the side of us, Potter's dark messy head bowed as he rummaged around in his bag. His lips were moving slightly as he chatted away to Weasley. I sneered at the oblivious Red head, trying to burn holes into him with my eyes. I wanted to be the one talking to Potter, not the Weasel.

Granger turned around and caught me staring. Obviously thinking I was eying up her precious boyfriend, she huffed and shot me a glare. I call it a glare for want of a better word. Granger's glare is truly pitiful. She is so unashamedly Mudblood that it hurts.

I glared back at her venomously and Pansy joined in. Any reason to glower at someone and Pansy is there in a heartbeat. Granger looked affronted and promptly began ignoring us. I rolled my eyes to try and hide how unsettled I really was.

We were on the wrong side of the room. Snakes should stay with their fellow snakes, and lions... Lions should just go die in a corner. Well, except one particular lion. I was quite content for my lion to stick around.

Blaise was tapping a nervous rhythm onto the tabletop with his fingertips, a clear sign of tension. I felt guilty that Pansy and Blaise were being shunned because of me. I began to encourage them to sit in the two empty seats remaining by Millicent's place. Why should they suffer for some stupid thing that I had done?

The withering look that Blaise directed at me halted my words. Pansy was also giving me a look that said 'we're not leaving so shut up'. My throat constricted with emotion. Merlin I loved them.

"Today," Snape began in his cold drawl, "We will be brewing a batch of M.S.E." I gave a mental sigh. My father had had me brew it when I was twelve-years-old as an important 'life skill'. The memory of this 'father-son bonding' time was not one of my fondest.

Granger was muttering excitedly behind me as Snape revealed the name of the mixture. Stupid Granger, wanting to show off. I turned around in my seat to shoot her a sardonic expression.

"Don't wet yourself Granger, it's only a potion," I hissed. Making mocking remarks to the Gryfindorks calms me down so much...

Weasley glared at me and hissed "Piss off Malfoy. Why don't you just go back to groping Zabini or whatever it was you were doing." Blood rushed up to my face. Granger smiled at him then looked back at me victoriously. My gaze hardened. So she wanted to play it that way did she?

I could play their game. Besides, it would even tie in with my list. I wanted to prove to Potter I was smart like the Mudblood but at the same time humiliate Granger. What better way to do so than to show her up while she was in her element?

"Does anyone know the full name of this potion?" Snape intoned, sounding bored. I saw Granger's hand fly up out of the corner of my eye. I allowed myself a grim smile before schooling my features into a blank mask.

I raised my hand slowly. Snape looked surprised for an instant before giving me a tight-lipped smile.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

"It stands for Muscle Strengthening Elixir sir," I said, watching as Granger's hand landed on the desk with a thud. I don't think anyone has ever beaten her to a question in class before. Well...I've never been a fan of tradition.

"Can anyone tell me the key ingredient to the Elixir?" he asked. Well that was just easy, wasn't it? I raised my hand again, only a faction slower than Granger who seemed determined to answer this one. "Malfoy?"

"Muswell leaves sir." I had received a clip round the ear from father in my youth for adding too many Muswell leaves when the potion was simmering. It's strange how one never forgets these things...

"Correct. And what is added after every clockwise stir when the potion has turned dark blue in colour?"

"Abada beans Professor." I had received a further strike for cutting the Abada bean into halves and not into quarters.

Snape had drifted to stand between the table at which Potter, Weasley and Granger were sitting at and the one occupied by Pansy, Blaise and I. It was beginning to feel like a competition. I was beginning to like my chances.

"What is the catalyst in M.S.E.?"

"Bowtruckle legs."

"What is the resulting colour of the Elixir?"

"Deep red – like burgundy."

"How many anaconda eyes are needed for this potion?"

I faltered. How many eyes were needed? I had been twelve when I had last brewed this potion – that was too long ago to remember the specifics. Granger was beginning to look hopeful again now that it was apparent that I was drawing up blank. In desperation, I said the words as I thought of them.

""Well I suppose that depends on what variation of the potion you wish to make, Professor. For anything that's going to be used to treat portions of muscle in the limbs I would add...only three anaconda eyes. If you added any more that that it could cause a burning reaction when added to the tissue. If the person receiving the potion needed it applied in an area around a delicate organ – say the heart for instance – I would add only two at maximum. That way the sensitiveness of the appendage cannot become irritated by the effects of the Elixir."

The whole room went silent apart from the furious huffing noises coming from the direction of the Mudblood. I looked nervously down at my clenched hands. Merlin what was I _doing_? Attracting everyone's attention to me which was the last thing I had wanted to do today...

But then Blaise began to laugh. He has one of those really infectious laughs that you can't help but join in with. Soon most of the Slytherins seemed to concede that I was only doing it to wind up Granger. It felt good to have their approval again, if only for a few minutes.

"Twenty points to Slytherin," Snape said quietly, flashing me a rare smile. "Draco, could you see me after class...?"

The familiar feeling of butterflies in my stomach started up again. Snape wanted to see me after class? What had I done wrong? I had thought he might have been pleased that I had finally made a contribution in class... Now I wasn't so sure.

Pansy nudged me out of my thoughts.

"Where did that come from?" she whispered with a grin, smacking me lightly on the arm. "You're a fricking genius! Draco Malfoy have you been holding out on us?" I smiled and felt the knot of tension loosen slightly.

I didn't answer Pansy's question. That would mean I'd have to tell her the reason I had pulled all of that knowledge out of my head at the last minute. It was, of course, due to the Potter list that was burning a hole in my pocket.

_Potter likes Granger because of her intelligence. So I will read ahead in workbooks and volunteer more answers in class._

As Blaise patted me on the back and joked loudly that I was an undiscovered intellect, I gave in to temptation and looked over at the Gryffindor table.

Hermione Granger was looking ready to throw something at me. The gangly Weasel patted her on the arm and muttered what were probably plots for my murder. They definitely had enough motives. I had tried to (unsuccessfully) snog their best friend before humiliating Granger while she was in her element. Oh yes, they were both pissed off. I couldn't help the grin that slid onto my face.

My grin dissolved in an instant however when my eyes met with Potter's.

He was not fuming as I had expected him to be. Nor was he sniggering like the Slytherins. His expression was thoughtful, like I was a fascinating specimen he wished to study. He was looking directly into my eyes, his gaze intense and smouldering. Was I imagining the flicker of a smile that was chasing around his lips? Probably.

I felt trapped by his eyes, much like I had at breakfast a few days ago. The harder I tried to look away, the more difficult it seemed to become.

His lips suddenly quirked upwards into a fleeting – but definitely _present_ – grin before he hastily looked down at the desk. I was left feeling utterly confused by his behaviour. Why couldn't Potter just let me be? He had made it quite clear that he wanted nothing to do with me. Though I will be the first to admit that if someone who I had always hated came up and kissed me in a crowded corridor, I might have flipped out a little too.

If he wanted me to leave him alone, why didn't he just say so? What was with all the lingering glances and small smiles? Those smiles were beginning to make me feel nervous. They were not the Merlin-you-are-such-an-idiot kind of smiles. No, these were definitely the I-know-something-you-don't smiles.

What did Potter know that I didn't? All these secret smiles were starting to wind me up. It was like Potter knew some sort of private joke that I wasn't in on. I hate not knowing things.

Snape began to write up the instructions for the M.S.E. on the blackboard. I slowly began to copy them down though my mind was far from potion making. I was enduring a mental battle with myself to try not to look over at Potter again.

_If I look over again it will be really noticeable. Everyone will see!_

_But everyone already knows that I like Potter. It isn't exactly a secret that I kissed him. _

_Don't give him the satisfaction of knowing you can't go two minutes without wanting to look at him! _

"Draco, you're twitching," Pansy murmured without looking up from her notes.

"No I'm not," I insisted even as my fingers jerked on the table. The grin Pansy shot me made me clench my hand into a fist. Stupid twitchy hands, giving me away... "Fine, I might be feeling a little bit twitchy, what's wrong with that?"

"Why are you twitching?"

"Why do you _think _I'm twitching?"

"Potter?"

"_Yes_, because of Potter. And keep your voice down!"

Pansy let out a breathy laugh. "Draco, everyone already knows. Even the Hufflepuffs know."

I gave her a pointed glare. "And that is thanks to whom exactly?"

"Hey, you're the one who couldn't keep it in his pants!"

"Malfoy and Parkinson! Something to share with the class?" Snape said venomously from the front of the room. I blushed as all eyes turned onto us. I was having _such_ a bad day.

"No sir," we said in unison, except my voice came out embarrassingly squeaky. This fact wasn't lost on my friends, both of whom snorted with laughter. I elbowed Pansy until she shut up.

"Good. Now everyone collaborates for this potion. When you are ready, come to the front to collect the Muswell leaves _directly from me_. If I catch anyone wasting my potion supplies that unfortunate soul will be replenishing my stock." His gaze swept over Longbottom who quivered pathetically. What a wimp that boy is. Everyone knows that when someone glares at you the only response is to glare just as fiercely back, don't they?

"There are three of us," I mumbled, looking at my shoes as everyone stood and began to partner up. "You two can go together, I'll work with..." I hadn't even taken one step away from them before Pansy seized hold of my elbow.

"There are four of us Draco. Honestly, can't you count?" said a voice behind me. Theo had joined our little group with his hands buried deep in his pockets. The impish smile gave me hope. Not everyone was on Potter's side then... Just as I was starting to feel safe, Snape's voice spoke again.

"Partners from opposite houses today, I'm afraid..."

And to think that this man was my Godfather! How could he do something so cruel to me, today of all days? The classroom erupted into groans as people began complaining loudly. Snape acted as if he could not hear a single one of us.

The Gryffindors were all eyeing us with distaste as if they may catch some horrible disease from us. The Slytherins merely sneered in general revulsion. It was at times like this that I understood just why Potter and I would not have worked out. A lion and a snake are about as compatible as Elf made wine with Hiccup potion. It just doesn't work at all.

"I want Granger," Pansy whispered with relish as the Slytherins and Gryffindors eyed each other warily. "That bitch is mine."

"Then I'm with Weasley," Theo declared with a wink. "I think it's time we got to know each other a little better..." As he cracked his knuckles I heard him murmur something about 'homophobic idiots'.

Before things could go any further, I held up my hands in a command for them to stop talking. The chatting died among my friends. When I spoke I did so in a harsh whisper so that all three of them could hear it.

"Under no circumstances will I end up working with Potter. I don't care which one of you partners him – just not me. Please." They all looked a bit taken aback by the plea at the end before Blaise patted me on the back.

"Don't you worry about it Drake. I will go with Potter." He said it like it was a huge sacrifice. In a way it was. Working with Potter guaranteed you a bad grade.

I doubt there are words to describe the amount of relief that I felt at that moment. I wouldn't be working with Potter! I was almost crying with happiness. But wait... who _was_ I going to work with?

As I scouted around the room for a non-threatening looking Gryffindor, my eyes lighted upon one of the only remaining candidates. I felt my heart sink. Longbottom was standing close by me, looking like he was working himself up to face a dragon.

When I stared back at him he flushed pink and stepped forward.

"Can I work with you?" he asked me tentatively. I admitted grudgingly that I liked the way he worded the question. If he had asked 'would you like to work with me?' I would be on the floor laughing. So I guess Longbottom wasn't completely stupid then.

"Yes," I said reluctantly. "But if you ruin my work and get me a zero –"

"I won't," he said quickly. "I'll just do what you tell me to do."

Finding nothing to criticize about this, I just turned on my heel and stalked back to my desk. Longbottom would have to come to me, I wasn't going anywhere with him. When I fell back into my seat it was to see Granger and Pansy locked in a serious looking staring contest. Granger was looking insulted while Pansy looked gleeful.

Theo had followed a disgruntled Weasley back to his desk while Blaise shepherded Potter back to where we were sitting. They took the desk in front of us and began lighting a fire beneath their cauldron. Blaise and Potter were working extremely well together in comparison to how the rest of the pairs were getting along. Most of the partners were sniping at each other; hardly any had even lighted their cauldron fires.

How was I ever going to get any work done when I would be able to see Potter every time I looked up?

As Longbottom's bag hit the desk beside me, I jumped. With a mumbled "I'll go and fetch the ingredients then," I dashed off into the cupboard.

Stupid bloody Potter with his idiotic friends, stupid Longbottom, stupid potion, stupid everything!

I began routing through the supplies cupboard for all the necessary ingredients. I managed to balance everything I could need in my arms with difficulty. Having short limbs can make balancing multiple items tricky. The only thing left was the Abada beans...which were on the top shelf. Brilliant.

I set down all the things I had carefully balanced in my arms and rolled up my sleeves. This was not going to be easy in the slightest.

Reaching up on my tiptoes, I held my hands up as far as they would go. They did not even come close to the shelf. I tried to jump but gave up fairly quickly, feeling foolish.

There was no stepladder in the room as I suppose Severus deemed one unnecessary. Any _normal_ heighted seventeen-year-old would be able to reach that shelf.

I kicked out at the corner of a cabinet, loudly cursing my stunted height.

There was a soft cough from behind me as someone stood in the potion cupboards doorway. I spun around, wondering if it was Blaise. If it _was_ Blaise I could ask him to get the beans for me. Sure, there would be some height related jokes for the rest of the day, but oh well. I would live with that.

It wasn't Blaise.

"Do you – er – want some...help?" Potter asked uncertainly. I resisted the urge to submit and agree that yes, I did need some help. Probably not the sort he was offering but still... I cannot pretend the thought did not tempt me, as undignified as it was.

"I can do it on my own," I lied firmly, turning back to the ridiculously high shelf. I brought a hand up above my head again and stretched for all I was worth. My fingertips grazed the underside of the shelf. "Fucking beans, why are you so God damn unreachable?" I hissed vehemently.

I heard Potter chuckle from behind me before the small room echoed with his footsteps. Any thoughts I had had that maybe he was leaving swept from my mind as I felt something press up against my back. I turned around only to come face to face with the Gryffindor hero. Well, face to neck is probably more accurate as I'm a bit shorter than him.

Potter's warm body leant over me as he reached up high to get the beans. He had to go up on his tiptoes too and this shirt rode up slightly. I stopped myself from running my hands over the tanned abdomen that had been revealed with great difficulty.

"Here you go," he murmured, holding a handful of the beans out to me in the small distance that remained between us. The smile I had been wondering about before was definitely not an illusion. It may be small but it was still there.

Seeing his perfect face split into a genuine smile made me ache. I wanted whole-heartedly to be able to grin back or even better, reach up on my tiptoes and kiss him. But I couldn't. Because Potter was straight and involved with the Weaselette.

And just like I always do, I said exactly the wrong thing.

"Stop hurting me Potter."

There is a reason that nobody can hear your thoughts. It is so that you have a chance to turn all the weird crap that your brain thinks into logical words fit to be heard by other human beings.

His smile was instantly gone and I cursed myself. We hadn't been so close to one another since the huge kissing/humping incident and yet my annoying mouth was just determined to ruin it.

"How am I hurting you?" he asked, confused.

If I look at this objectively it is, of course, a valid question. All Potter was doing was smiling at me and offering me a handful of beans. But at the time when he said it...well it seemed like he was being purposefully obtuse. It made me feel even worse to know that he was doing it deliberately.

"You're teasing me."

He spluttered incoherently for a few seconds before I held up a finger to silence him. His mouth snapped shut at once. I pushed him gently in the chest and he moved backwards obligingly. He still looked adorably confused.

"It's ok Potter, really. I know that you don't like me – I get it. The whole thing where you shoved me away from you the other day made it kind of clear. But anyway, it doesn't matter. I know you're as straight as they come and you're all shacked up with the Weasley shrew. So give up mocking me and just stay out of my fucking life."

"I'm not mocking you!" he gasped, sounding legitimately upset. Potter really was a very convincing actor. "I would never mock you for...liking someone." As he said those last words a pink tinge crept into his cheeks.

If Potter felt embarrassed it was nothing to how confused I felt.

"Even if that someone was you?" I hissed. There was a small silence after the words left my mouth.

Potter's lips opened a little in surprise. "You're not going to try and deny it?" he asked incredulously. "You're not going to tell me that I've got it wrong?"

I swallowed. Was he was asking for a confirmation or a confession?

"What's the point in denying what happened? I will admit that I may have been a little...forward," I coughed as the understatement of the century left my mouth. "Because yes, _in the moment_ I might have found you slightly desirable...but you needn't worry – it's passed."

I tried to reassure myself that the enormous lies I was telling didn't contradict the first resolution on my Potter list. These lies were _necessary_.

"So you only liked me 'in the moment?'" Potter asked me dubiously, folding his arms across his chest. When I gave a jerky nod he snorted in disbelief. "So it was just _coincidence_ that right before you...kissed me, you told me you liked me? And on that same evening –"

He broke off abruptly and rubbed a hand across his eyes. Warning bells were going off in my head. What did he know about last night? After I had had my fleeting kiss with Potter I had escaped back to the sanctuary of the dungeons. How could he possibly know about my little sob fest with my best friends? It was obvious that he didn't.

"Yes, it was only in the moment," I snapped at him. "Don't go thinking you're so special to me Potter!"

He raised his eyebrows still looking sceptical. "I don't believe you."

Though the words had been clearly written on his face, hearing them aloud somehow made me feel bitter. Of course Potter wouldn't believe me. No one ever does.

"Then what do you believe?" I asked as coldly as I could. I didn't practically want to hear his answer; I just wanted to hear his voice again. Even though he was saying all the wrong words, I was surprised to find that his voice was oddly...calming. I was beginning to find that the deep and comforting tones of Potter's voice were almost...pleasant.

"I believe that under all the harsh words and the cold exterior you're just as normal and human as the rest of us." Potter said with a shrug. "I think that you have insecurities and fears that you'd rather not face. I believe that you're trying to be a better person despite the circumstances. I also think that you're gay."

The beans that Potter had handed to me cascaded to the floor like rain.

_I also think that you're gay. _

I spun around and began to collect as many of the needed ingredients as I possibly could, not caring if I left a few. I needed to be away from Potter as fast as possible.

"Why won't you just admit the truth for once in your life?" Potter asked me impatiently.

I braced my arms against the shelves in front of me, my eyes closed. When I spoke my voice shook.

"Because I don't know how to."

I almost ran across the tiny room to the door. I couldn't bear to look at him. When I got to the door I paused with my back still to him. As much as I didn't want to, I couldn't resist one last look over my shoulder, to see his expression. His face was closed, blank, expressionless. I sneered at him, trying to regain a bit of my old self.

"Just for the record Potter, I'm not gay."

With that I marched back into the classroom.

~O~

"What took you so long?" Longbottom asked when I all but threw the items down upon the desk. "You were gone ages."

"Mind your own business Longbottom!" I snapped, turning the pages of my textbook with unnecessary force. "Start chopping!" I shoved a random herb in his direction with the hope that it would require slicing.

"The book says to grind it with the pestle," said Longbottom carefully, checking his own notes.

"Well – do that then," I spat, staring intently at the words on the page before me. I couldn't focus on a single one of them. What was the point? Potter knew. Everyone knew.

"Um, could you pass me the pestle please?"

Could the world not leave me alone for _two seconds_? I passed the thing to Longbottom quickly, hoping he would stop talking and start working. The conversation with Potter was playing over and over again in my mind. _I think that you have insecurities and fears that you'd rather not face. I also think that you're gay. _

"Err Malfoy?"

"_What_ Longbottom?!"

"This is a ladle. I asked for the pestle."

My eyes flicked from the serving spoon in Longbottom's hand to his round face. Merlin, he must thing I'm such an idiot. I couldn't even tell the difference between a spoon and a grinder.

He looked concerned.

"Sorry," I muttered, chucking him the appropriate utensil. He looked surprised that I had apologised and even more surprised when he caught the pestle.

"Malfoy, are you feeling alright?"

God, just what I needed, a sympathetic Gryfindork. Somebody shoot me.

"I'm fine Longbottom," I said curtly. Malfoy's did not accept help. Not from clumsy, forgetful, idiotic and cowardly Gryffindor boys. Besides, what did Neville Longbottom know about how I was feeling? He barely knew what day of the week it was, how could he possibly know anything about my emotions?

"Is it about Harry?" he asked quietly, his eyes on the leaves he was now crushing. "Are you upset because of something he said?"

The torn page I had been fingering in my book ripped out completely.

"What?!" I whispered harshly.

"I don't think you should be too upset about anything he has said to you," he went on even as I gaped at him. "Harry is just confused right now. He's also very guarded. He doesn't let people into his heart easily."

"I'm not trying to get into his heart!"

Longbottom just gave me a look. The resemblance to the expression Pansy was always giving me made me do a double take. This spineless sappy Gryffindor thought that he could see right through me. Merlin, how degrading!

Foregoing all pretence, I sighed and put my head onto the desk. "You're wrong Longbottom. Harry Potter hates me."

Longbottom gave a breathless laugh that I had never heard him use before. "If you believe that then you are truly blind."

I groaned. This boy was clearly deluded. "I'm not blind at all. I had my eyes wide open the whole time. I saw his face when I tried to..." I broke off and cleared my throat. I was beginning to hate blushing.

"Kiss him?" Longbottom supplied quietly. I scowled at him and tried to fight down the blush that was consuming my entire face.

I didn't like the look that Longbottom was once again giving me. It was too understanding and kindly.

"He was shocked! Wouldn't you be a bit surprised too if your enemy kissed you and...um...r-rutted against you?"

"Shut up Longbottom." My voice was deadly. I would not talk about this to anyone, especially not one of Potter's little minions.

Longbottom didn't seem to notice. He was still working away at the leaves. "And besides, before all of this started everyone thought you were straight! You were going out with that Samuels girl from Ravenclaw weren't you?"

"Longbottom –"

"And you've always behaved really horribly towards Harry and his friends. It's only natural that he should be wary about trusting –"

"Stop it – JUST STOP IT!"

I stood up from my desk, my stool falling to the floor behind me. The class had gone quiet as I had yelled and every eye was on me. It was much too similar to the Great Hall scene earlier for my liking.

"You don't know _anything_ about me," I hissed at Longbottom. He flinched backwards away from me which brought a cool smile to my lips. This was how I was supposed to be. This was the Draco Malfoy that I recognized, not the sappy love-struck version I had been playing recently.

"We know that you're a faggot," Seamus Finnegan whispered in a not-very-subtle tone of voice. "We know you get off from being pinned to walls by Har–"

I doubt he was expecting that punch, but I really do love surprises...

As Finnegan was knocked backwards off his stool by the force of the hit, all of the Gryffindors stood up in anger. The Slytherins didn't do anything except snigger and sneer at both of us. I could almost hear their thoughts as one – _well, the Gryfindork _was_ right._.._but he's been asking for a punch for a while. _

Snape ignored the squawking Gryffindors and was looking straight at me. I didn't want to see the disappointment that would be evident in his face so I looked away.

I began to stuff all of my things back into my bag at random, much like I had after that fateful day in the Defence against the dark arts classroom where all of this mess had began. Books, quills, ink and ingredients all hurled into the bag haphazardly.

Dean Thomas looked like he was about to hit me. I wouldn't blame him really. I had just punched his best friend after all. If someone had hit Blaise I would have definitely taken a swing for them. If someone had hurt Pansy...well, they would be in the hospital wing.

The reason he was not already over here to beat the crap out of me soon became apparent. Harry was holding onto him, holding both of his arms behind his back. He had a grim expression on his face but at least he did not look angry with me. I could not pretend that his opinion of me didn't matter because it did. What Potter thought of me...it was quickly becoming priority number one.

As I stuffed the last of my things back into my bag, I began to move toward the door. Pansy and Blaise were looking concerned and desperate to follow me but I shook my head. I wouldn't exile them from our fellow Slytherins just so that they could help me wallow in self-pity.

Snape did not say anything as I made my way hastily across the dungeon. I think that he respected me enough to let me make my own decisions. I appreciated that.

Somebody in one of the isles stuck their leg out and I tripped. The laughter that resulted from this made my throat constrict painfully. I had landed on my hands and knees hard and it was all I could do not to let the sudden tears sting my eyes. Being targeted like this was not something I had ever had to deal with before. I hated it.

"What you doing on the floor Malfoy? Dropped your gay card?" More laughter followed this, though most of the purebloods looked just as confused as I felt. Gay card?

"Don't get on your knees in front of _me_," Vince said in revulsion. "Potter's over there, I'm sure he'd appreciate it more."

I scrambled to my feet and spun around feeling terrified. The whole class beamed back in amusement. Pansy, Blaise and Theo were all looking murderously at our peers. Even as I watched, Theo jabbed Weasley with the end of his wand.

"Say something like that again Weasel and they'll be your last words for a very long time." He said threateningly. Weasley snapped something back but I didn't catch it. My eyes, as always, were drawn towards Potter.

He still had a tight grip on Finnegan and his face was blazing scarlet from Vincent's last comment. He was looking at me apologetically, like he might be feeling a shadow of the emotions I was enduring. I didn't buy it for an instant.

I flung the door open and left the jeering, catcalling class behind me.

~O~

I cast a tempus charm, though I had no inclination to get up and go anywhere. From what the spell me, I had missed History of Magic, Aritmancy and half of Transfiguration.

No big loss.

I would copy up Theo's notes for Aritmancy, and who gives a shit about History of Magic? Transfiguration was our other Gryffindor class so that was obviously off the agenda.

I sighed and tilted my head backwards against the bark of the tree. This was my reflection time, my time to get away from the battle to examine my strategy. My head was so heavy with thoughts that I would have been a relief to have a pensive. Maybe then I would get some peace.

The Potter parchment is still clutched between my fingers. For some reason the touch of the page against my skin was soothing and yet at the same time, scolding. I put the paper away firmly, back into my pocket. But what use was it there where it burns a hole through my robes?

I took it out of my pocket again. Then returned it. Then decide that, no, actually, I _do_ want to see it. This process is repeated until even I grow weary of it. In the pocket, out the pocket, in the pocket... It is as if my heart and my brain are in battle, both tugging me in different directions.

My head tells me to forget what Potter said. Forget Finnegan, forget Weasley, and forget everything. Just push it all to the dark recesses of my brain and refuse to acknowledge it. Sweeping things under the rug is a Malfoy specialty.

But my heart...every beat of my heart is urging me to go to Transfiguration just to see Harry Potter's face one more time. My heart actually _hurts_ from my confrontation with Potter in the potions storeroom. His face, Potter's face, so close, almost touching... The smell of his neck, just like I remembered it from the Charms corridor... The way his shirt hitched up slightly and caused my breath to burn in my lungs...

How could anyone forget any of that?

Furious for letting myself get so carried away, I scrambled about for something else to do. I upturned my school bag so all of my books cascaded out onto the grass.

They were not especially interesting reading materials. A Potions textbook which was so easy it was almost embarrassing. Aritmancy notes that would send me to sleep before I reached the end. Ditto History of Magic. There was no point revising Transfiguration as McGonagall hates my guts anyway. Which, to my horror, left...

Defence against the Dark Arts.

Oh fucking Merlin. Was that...today? Last period on a Monday? The class responsible for setting off this weird rollercoaster of emotions and that had gotten me shunned by my housemates?

Which is when I remembered the second part of this death sentence.

Professor Lupin's offer. Well, Lupin's _order_ really, since I had little choice on the matter. Private defence lessons, getting rid of my Boggart, being taught by a werewolf. It didn't get much better than that, did it?

So I would get to see Harry Potter's face again today after all. It would just be mashed up and be bleeding into the floor.

"Riddikulus," I murmured to myself. There was no way I was forgetting the spell this time around. This time, I would be prepared. This time, that Boggart was going down. "Riddikulus, Riddikulus, Riddikulus..." The spell became my own private chant.

But how could you make a corpse into something amusing? Probably a year ago I would have found the thought of Potter's dead body amusing. The thought now caused bile to collect in my throat. Things had changed so much.

"Riddikulus, Riddikulus, Riddikulus..."

Fuck, I would have to spend hours in the werewolf's presence being humiliated. Seeing my mother and father die, seeing Pansy and Blaise die, seeing Potter...dead.

"Riddikulus...Riddikulus..."

Should I go to the DADA lesson or skip it, like I had done with my other classes? I could just go at the end of the class to tell Lupin that I would grudgingly accept his offer of help... It would be embarrassing to admit that a Boggart could best me, but I suppose it would be more embarrassing to unable to do it when I am a grown wizard. Better to get it all sorted now.

"...Riddikulus..."

Who knows, maybe it will all be over quickly. How hard can it be to get rid of a shape-shifter, right? Then everything will go back to normal. I will be me again. Just like I was before.

"Riddikulus."

~O~

The apples that I pocketed at breakfast come in handy as I decide against lunch. I'm not in the mood for a repeat of this morning's breakfast scene. Besides, the open air is doing me some good. I haven't come to sit out here in the longest time...

Pansy, Blaise and I call this our tree. It looks no different from any of the others that sit by the lake, and that's part of its charm. It has low branches which are easy to climb, it has thick leaves which are Slytherin green and it's a nice place to come and think.

And boy have I been thinking.

After a while, the barrage of images and feelings inside my head is just too much and the floodgates have to open.

Out here in the cool breeze it's easier to entertain thoughts of Potter. His glasses, his scent, his eyes, his clothes...anything and everything my brain can come up with. Letting it out is easier than holding it in.

I wonder what it means that I have sided with my heart instead of my head. Is this going to be the same for my future decisions? Would this influence my decisions about marrying Cerise, about getting a job and about taking the Dark Mark?

Has my new found passion for Potter changed my fundamental being?

I hope that the answer is no. My father would kill me and then probably himself if he knew I doubted the system that his whole life is dictated by. The thought is unpleasant.

I've decided that I will skip Defence against the Dark Arts class. I'll arrive right at the end and tell Lupin that I've been in the hospital wing. It's pathetic to run away from the world, but I can't bring myself to care.

I'm not used to all this negative attention, all these jibes and glares and half amused, half disdainful glances. I'm not ready to just own up to it and admit to the world that I like Potter.

Because I do like Potter. I like Potter an incomprehensible, crazy and unhealthy amount. Which is scary.

I wonder what Potter did last night. Did he and the other sixth year Gryfindork boys sit up late into the night, gossiping and laughing themselves stupid at the most humiliating kiss of the century? Did he laugh about it with the Weasel and the Mudblood? Did he spend the night driving all thoughts of the kiss out of his head by fucking the Weaselette?

My hands pulled up fistfuls of grass in consternation. I loathed the Weaselette.

Only another half an hour until lessons ended. Then I would seal the deal on these horrifying extra classes. It was so soon, much too soon. I wondered how I had neglected to worry about these new fear-inducing trials. It seemed I had had too much else to fret about. Like Potter and...well, just Potter. Such a big collection of my doubts and miseries could be summed up with that one name. Potter.

The minutes and seconds seemed to be disappearing faster than they should. As much as I wished that time would just stop and cease to exist, it was flying by faster than ever.

Twenty minutes to go.

Fifteen.

Ten.

_Five_?

I heaved myself to my feet – It was time to face the magic. Now or never. Over and over again I tried to convince myself that this was not as hard as I was making it out to be. It was just like any other class.

I had plenty of reasons to put on a brave face, yet each reason contained such a big loophole that each one fizzled out. I was a Slytherin...but I now spending so much of my time dreaming of a Gryffindor. I was a Pureblood...but probably the most cowardly one ever to live. I was a Malfoy...but I was behaving less and less like one every day.

_Walk_, I commanded myself. My feet moved slowly in the direction of the castle. _Walk faster_! Nothing happened, my feet continued to trudge along at the same speed. Perhaps they could sense the contradiction the order had with my survival instincts. But as they were feet, perhaps not.

I was inside the castle again far quicker than I would have liked. The walk from the lake should surely have been longer than that...

A fifth year Ravenclaw boy passed me by in the Entrance Hall, making sure to keep as far away from me as possible. My temper flared. Did he think being gay was contagious? I longed to hex him.

I stomped up two flights of stairs, barely noticing what I was doing, and tuning out the many whistles and shouts I got from the people I passed. Any reply I gave would surely get me into a fight. I didn't have time for a fight. I had to meet Lupin by the time class ended which was in...Oh. About four minutes ago.

Bugger, I was late. Malfoy's were never late.

I steamrollered into the Defence classroom, chucking my bag onto one of the desks and beginning my excuse.

"Sorry I'm late Professor, I was in the hospital wing and I must have – "

My words died in my throat as I took in what I was seeing. Lupin was sitting behind the teacher's desk, chin resting on entwined fingers and looking at me pleasantly. After the first glance in his direction however, my eyes were drawn to something else. Or should I say some_one_ else.

Potter leaned back on one of the front desks casually, just as he had been when he accosted me yesterday. His school robes and bag were resting on the chair behind him as if he was not leaving anytime soon.

"Oh!" I gasped, doing a very good impression of an idiot. What else could I say? Potter was here. Potter was _here_, with Lupin, with _me_. "Sorry, I'll just wait outside..."

"No, Draco, hold on a moment please..." said Lupin even as I turned around and almost sprinted from the room. "You were not interrupting anything. Harry is here for the same reason you are."

Confusion, frustration and worry bubbled within me like I was a simmering potion.

"Harry can already repel the Boggart," I blurted. I gave myself a mental slap both for speaking without thinking and for using Potter's given name. But I had only called him Harry because Lupin had. It was an easy mistake.

"Yes, you are right," Lupin told me cordially, ignoring my use of Potter's first name. "As you must have realised, Harry here is exceptionally gifted at Defence against the Dark Arts."

Potter flushed with pleasure in much the same way that I do when Severus pronounces a potion of mine "good" or "excellent". I did not roll my eyes as I ordinarily would have done. I was far too suspicious of them both to indulge in such ways. There was something going on here.

I did not answer him, just waited for him to explain. What was it with adults and those long irritating pauses? Did they get kicks from making people wait? Or is suspense something I will learn to appreciate with age?

"I am afraid, Draco, that you have caught me at an awkward time of the month for me to be tutoring you." Ah. He was talking about the moon cycle. An awkward time of the month indeed, when the full moon brings out your inner wolf.

"But I am glad to tell you that all is not lost. As I said before, Harry here is more than capable at banishing Boggarts. He has agreed to instruct you in my place, if you would consent to giving him a little extra potions tutorage in return. I hear from Professor Snape that you are a fine potions student. It seems a fair exchange, does it not?"

Hold on just one bloody minute. Was he saying this with a straight face? As if he might actually be _serious_?

I was only slightly aware that my mouth was hanging open in horror.

Potter would be teaching me to get rid of my Boggart and I, in return, would be giving him _Potions_ _lessons_?

I prayed that this was just some joke, designed to make me run screaming from the room. It was having the desired effect, if that was the case. My legs were begging me to let them run out of the door, a scream building in my throat.

I should not have come here. I should have stayed outside by the lake, sitting under my tree. Sure it was cold outside, but it was so much preferable to the shard of ice that seemed to have lodged in my heart.

Lupin wasn't looking at me, choosing instead to tuck spare bits of parchment into his briefcase. Potter was watching me. His eyes held a defiant gleam, like he was daring me to refuse. As if I had any choice in the matter!

"So what do you think Malfoy?" he said challengingly. "Are you up for it?" It sounded as if there was a suppressed laugh in his words. As if the prospect of the two of us spending hours and hours together did not repulse him, merely entertained him.

"If you can handle it Potter," I shot back, making sure that the trembling of my hands did not seep into my voice.

He grinned at me as if my answer pleased him.

What was _wrong_ with him? Had he just happened to forget the whole kissing in corridors/Potions cupboard embarrassment? Or was this some new elaborate plan to confuse me to death. If it was, it was sure as hell working.

He looked almost...excited.

"The Boggart is in the usual trunk boys," said Lupin as he snapped his briefcase shut and walked towards the door. "Work hard and no fighting. Good luck." And then he just turned around and _left_. Just abandoned me with Harry potter and a huge battered trunk.

The moment the door clicked shut I turned on Potter.

"What are you playing at?" I ask him wearily. "Why are you doing this?"

Once more he gives me the dazzling grin. I keep a firm grip on the table behind me to make sure that I don't melt. It's a close thing though.

"What do you think I'm doing it?" he asks calmly as he rolls up his sleeves and takes out his wand. "I'm helping you so that you will help me. I'm useless at Potions. The Muscle Strengthening Elixir – I just don't understand it at all. This way, I benefit and you benefit too. It's a win – win situation."

He gives me another smile but it's his expressive his eyes which tell me that he has another hidden motive. He was probably the most Slytherin Gryffindor I had ever met. The smirk he's wearing lets me know just how much he will enjoy bossing me around for the next few hours.

What is the point in trying to beat my Boggart when I had a _real_ scary situation going on right now? If I couldn't shake of the real Potter for more than half a day before he came back into my life, how was I suppose to get rid of a bloody Boggart?

"Alright," I croaked. "Let's do this."

I know that I will not live out the day.

~O~

Chapter 7 is complete! 14 and a half thousand words in 6 days. That for me is pretty damn good. *smirks*

Thank you to everyone reviewed, I enjoyed reading them all. Does anyone have any suggestions for what they would like to happen in the next chapter? I'm a bit stuck for ideas.

PS. Thanks to all my well-wishers – my foot is on the mend :D


	8. No Going Back

**AN:** Hello again! I am _so _sorry that this took so long. I actually had this finished a long time ago but before I posted it, it got lost when my computer crashed. I've had to write this up from scratch but I think it's ok. 12 thousand words is not too bad eh? ;)

Happy reading!

**Chapter 8 – No going back**

"_Alright," I croaked. "Let's do this." _

_I know that I will not live out the day. _

~O~

Ever since I came back to Hogwarts this year, I have done nothing but regret it. The lessons are harder, the teachers are stricter and now the whole student population is divided between laughing at me and shunning me. How much worse could it get?

The fact that Potter is here with me now in this otherwise empty classroom is just the cherry on top of the cake.

Ever since my dejected mutter of "Let's do this," things had gone remarkably quiet. Potter was looking at me with an almost curious air as if he was wondering why I was so desperate not to be here. If that is the case, Potter is a complete idiot. He's hansome as hell but still an idiot.

Of course I don't want to be here! I want to sprint back to the dungeons, find Pansy and Blaise and then moan about how rotten my life is.

"Should we get started then?" I ask sullenly, the words coming out of my mouth slightly choked. I _really_ don't want to be here. I would rather serve detention with _Filch_ than endure this.

Potter does not take his eyes off me, which is disconcerting. There is something in that gaze that makes me feel more exposed than I would have if I had been standing in front of him naked. But we won't think about that just now.

"Is staring at me part of your lesson plan?" I asked, when the intense look started to become too much. If it was anyone other than Potter I would accuse them of trying to undress me with their eyes. But Potter is straight.

"Shut up Malfoy, I'm trying to analyse you." He said without missing a beat.

Analyse me? What the hell? Nobody analyses me without my say so.

"Well _stop_ analysing me," I snap, looking carefully at the board over Potter's left shoulder, and not at his face. "It makes you look creepier than usual."

Potter frowns as though I've just distracted him from something very important. "I don't look creepy!" He sounds annoyed. Good.

"It's ok Potter. The world loves you anyway." How annoyingly true is that statement? The whole world loves Harry Potter. Even the people who aren't _suppose_ to like Potter are starting to like Potter – myself being a prime example. I have so much competition.

Potter, being the confusing soul he is, looks displeased. As if having so much love and gratitude directed at you for being the saviour was something of a burden.

"The world doesn't know me though, does it?" he said with a sigh. "Not the real me."

How did our conversation (if one can call it that) become so deep so quickly?

"I know you." The moment the words are out, I want to grab them and shove them back into my mouth. _I know you_? What the fuck was I thinking? I don't know Potter at all. I don't know what his favourite colour is, or what his favourite type of food is, or where he'd like to live when he's older. I don't know a damn thing except that he wears dorky glasses, my father hates him and that he causes my brain to dissolve.

Potter's frown smoothes out a fraction as though my response has made him slightly calmer. "I guess you do, don't you?" he murmurs. "No-one can get under my skin quite like you can."

I hope I did not just swallow my tongue. Alright it wasn't quite what I was hoping for. What he has just said, in effect, is that no-one annoys him quite as well as I do. But Potter admitted that I affect him. Alright, not in the same way that he affects me, but _still_! This has to be progress.

"And now," he said, with an air of finality. "It's time to get on with the lesson."

"You've finished your analysis?"

He gave a smirk that made my stomach jump pleasantly. "Yes."

"And what did you find?" It was fairly obvious what my question translated as. _What do you make of me as a person_? I was more than a little eager for the answer.

"A great many things." His eyes had the _exact_ same sparkle that Dumbledore's had when _he_ was spouting crap. It was uncanny.

I tried extra hard not to be disappointed. I didn't care what Potter thought of me. I didn't need him to go into detail about what he thought of my characteristics. I didn't need to know if he had seen a change in my behaviour since I had made the Potter list. I didn't need anything.

"Whatever Potter. It's not like I care." _Tell me what you think of me right now! What do I mean to you_?

Was that a smile of _pity_? It was the replica of the one Longbottom had given me in Potions earlier, full of too much understanding. I didn't like it one little bit.

"Aren't we meant to be doing something practical here?" I said waspishly, trying to avoid the perceptive look Potter was still giving me. "Like getting rid of Boggarts? Or was this whole lesson some sort of twisted joke where we just sit here and talk to each other for another hour?"

Potter's smile widened alarmingly.

"Gosh, Malfoy, I had no idea you were so eager to learn! What was I thinking holding you up like this? You're right, we'll get straight to work!" Potter leapt off the desk, walking briskly to the side of the room where the Boggart was stored.

"No, wait...uh..."

"Nope, you were right; we should be doing something productive."

There were so many other productive things we could be doing. Potter looks like he could use a stress-breaker...I could help.

Potter was pushing the heavy grey trunk slowly across the floor towards me, panting with the effort. I looked without restraint at the bulging arm muscles beneath the school shirt, watching the way his hands splayed over the trunk as he shoved it forwards.

"No, it's ok...you can analyse me for a bit longer if you want..."

But that damn trunk was already at my feet. It rattled menacingly, as if it knew how much torment it was about to cause me. I glared at it, trying to make it disappear with my mind.

How had things gone so quickly from my light conversation with Potter to facing a caged beast?

"Ready Malfoy?" said Potter's tantalising voice from where he was crouched behind the trunk. His hands were fumbling around the crease of the lid, trying to locate the lock.

The automatic answer was no. The answer I would always give when met with a challenge was yes. Especially a challenge from Potter. "Sure," I croaked. "Whatever."

The rattling of the trunk increased. So did the volume of the voice in my head, telling me that I should just _tell_ Potter I don't know what I'm doing. I've never known how to get rid of a Boggart properly.

"Three..." Oh shit. I should just tell him. What's the worst that could happen?

"Two..." I'd look so stupid. So _weak_. I don't want to look pathetic.

"One!" Oh crap. Crap, crap, crap.

"No don't!"

Potter had already pulled the trunk open, about a hands-width wide before logic kicked in. I placed the heel of my shoe on top of the lid and slammed it shut again. It made a satisfying crashing sound.

"Christ Malfoy – you almost took my fingers off!" Typical Potter was sitting back on his heels, his hands cradled against his chest. "A little warning next time?"

Oh please. Potter's precious fingers were well out of the way when I smashed it closed. What a baby.

"Right now listen up Potter, because I'm only going to say this once..." I tried to force the words 'I don't know how to repel a Boggart' through my lips but it didn't come. 'I need some help'. Nope, that wasn't coming out either. How about something less pathetic like...

"You don't know how to do it do you?"

The quietly spoken words made me jump. Potter had his arms crossed over his chest, a mildly curious expression on his face. It wasn't accusing or judgmental or any of the other emotions I had expected to see there. It was more...enquiring.

"I – of course I...well...actually...no."

"Thought so," said Potter simply. He was looking off into the distance at something I could not see and looked...animated. Like he had just solved a complex string of incantations at long last. It would have been quite enjoyable to watch it, had I not been suspicious that it was about me.

"I could just see it you know? I could tell when you were standing in front of the trunk. Your fingers were twitching and you were breathing really fast. You do this cute little thing with your nose when you get upset –"

He stopped talking rather suddenly; inside my head, a party raged. Potter thought I was _cute_. Obviously I would have preferred a manlier compliment like, I don't know, charming, attractive, or devilishly handsome? But I could definitely work with cute.

"What was that about my nose?" I asked innocently.

In truth I knew _exactly_ what he was talking about. Pansy gets no end of enjoyment from pointing out the way my nose likes to scrunch up when I'm emotional. Blaise thinks that it makes me look like a ferret_. I_ think that Blaise needs a good punching.

Potter was blushing the same deep red colour that looks so unattractive on my face. How is it that Potter makes it look good? If I weren't a respectable Slytherin I would have to say I found the sight quite endearing.

"I – nothing...you..."

Watching Potter babble was highly entertaining. It reminded me of happier times, when I didn't think that watching Harry Potter with Ginny Weasley might cause me to explode. Life was so much simpler then.

Taking pity on my esteemed 'teacher', I cut him off.

"Alright, enough about my damn nose; how do I get rid of the Boggart? I'm not asking for your help, mind you. Just a point in the right direction." How stupid it was that even after all this time, the idea of accepting help from Potter is still cringe-worthy.

Thankfully, Potter stopped spluttering and seemed to regain his poise. He took three deep breaths then smiled benignly again.

"Malfoy, if you don't mind me asking..." Which meant I probably would, "How come you don't know how to do this? Why didn't you do it in third year like everybody else?"

Oh. It was time for _that_ question was it?

"I was ill," I say vaguely, suddenly finding great interest in my fingernails. "I was in the hospital wing during the lesson."

Silence passed between us in which both of us knew it was a lie. But I'm not telling Potter. No, I'm not.

How do you tell the person that you most want to impress that you bunked off your Defence against the Dark Art's class in third year because you didn't want anyone to know you were afraid of your father? Or that in the exam that year you purposefully followed the Grindilow into the waist high mud just so that you wouldn't make it to the end of the course where the Boggart was? The answer is you can't. Not without sounding like a complete coward.

"Alright," said Potter, the word coming out mixed with a sigh. It was as if that one word contained all of his disappointment. I tried not to feel guilty. This was not our heart-to-heart session; this was an hour or so where Potter was supposed to be helping me. Nothing else.

He obviously decided to go along with my feeble excuse rather than press the point if his slumped shoulders and slight pout were anything to go by. "I'll teach you from the beginning."

As much as I detested the thought that I was being treated like a third year, I said nothing. This was likely as good as it was going to get. At least Potter was not being condescending about this, the way I probably would have been.

"Ok Malfoy. Close your eyes."

"_What_?" Um, how about no? Closing your eyes in front of the enemy – what a rooky mistake that would be.

"Close your eyes _please_."

What did he think I was – a _Gryffindor_? Adding a plea wasn't going to cut it.

I blinked defiantly at him. He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "I'm trying to help you, you stupid git. I'm not going to jinx you – I'm in Gryffindor remember? Now close your God damn eyes."

The insults were more familiar ground to me than the new territory that Potter and I had been on lately. The name-calling coupled with Potter's very unimpressed and totally exasperated look made me heave a sigh in happiness. If I didn't think too hard and just listened to his frustration, I could almost kid myself that things were just the same as normal. Almost.

I gave him one last lingering look before allowing myself to stand in darkness. Shutting my eyes in front of the boy I have taunted for six years still feels like a grave error of judgement. But at least now I'm confident that he won't curse me into a pile of mashed potatoes.

"Good," says Potter's soothing voice. "Now try to relax."

I quelled the urge to snort with laughter, knowing it would only aggravate my teacher further.

Relax? _Relax_? What was he, crazy? I'm standing in the Defence against the Dark Arts classroom with _my eyes closed_ at the mercy of a boy who, if not hates me, then at least extremely dislikes me. Tell me, does that sound relaxing to you?

If anything, I tensed up even more.

There was a frustrated sigh from somewhere to my left which made me jump. I had not realised that Potter had moved closer.

"You're not doing it Malfoy."

"Shut up Potter."

"I'm trying to teach you something but you're not letting me. Do you want to be scared of a Boggart for your whole life? Do you?"

_Stupid Boggart ruining my whole bloody life_, I thought sulkily. Even with my disgruntled thoughts, I did make the _tiniest_ bit more effort to loosen up my shoulder muscles. Potter is very skilled at manipulation. Maybe we might be good together after all.

I jumped about a mile when two hands descended onto my shoulders.

Why...why... so many of my questions started with 'why'. Why was Potter touching me? Why were my shoulders burning beneath the touch? Why did every bone in my body suddenly turned to unresponsive jelly?

"Better." I could hear the smile in the voice and tried my utmost not to think sappy thoughts. It had not been a compliment...and yet my whole body had shuddered pleasantly. I've _never_ felt the desire to please anyone before. Well, except father, and that was more like family duty than want. I've always just looked out for myself...but now it turns out that Potter has some sort of freaky hold over me.

Even when you can't see the beautiful smile, it is still no easier to resist it.

"Relax Malfoy," the voice is intoning softly. I can hardly concentrate on the voice, because the hands resting on my shoulders have started to move so very slightly. The thumbs are rubbing circles into my back, the fingers travelling feather light along my robes.

And strangely it _is_ relaxing. Had someone suggested to me before today that having Harry Potter's hands stroking my shoulders would calm me down, I would have laughed like crazy before I hexed them.

But I like it. Maybe a little bit too much.

We stood in silence for about thirty seconds. All of the time that Potter is behind me I am torn between my emotions. Half of me wanting to throw his hands off my shoulders and punch him square in the face for _daring_ to toy with my emotions. He has the Weaselette all to himself and yet he feels the need to confuse me too? But the other half of me...that's the half that wants to turn around to kiss his lips again.

Neither one of these actions would be well received so I stay put, trying not to tremble too much.

"Alright now for the next step," Potter says, keeping his voice soft as if he's talking to a little child. I notice that even though I am apparently relaxed enough to do whatever comes next, Potter has not removed his hands from my shoulders. This thought makes me a little bit lighter.

"Think of whatever it is that scares you most in the world."

There are too many things that scare me. None of them stand out as being my 'biggest' fear. Instead of admitting I can't think of anything, I go for the next best answer.

"I'm not scared of anything Potter."

I don't need to be able to see his face to know that Potter is rolling his eyes. Call it a sixth sense if you will.

A pause, a fraction of a heart beat long, before Potter recovers himself and drives onwards with a new tactic.

"Aren't you?" The words are whispered against the shell of my ear, hot and sweet with the warmth of his breath. The little shaky gasp that escaped me was a reflex, nothing else, honestly! Who knew Potter would sink so low to teach me a lesson? Preying on the fact that I want him to get me to pay attention? That is a very Slytherin move. Very Slytherin indeed.

But he's still there, breathing gently onto my ear. "Are you sure you're not afraid of _anything_?"

His bottom lip just nudged accidentally against the lobe of my ear.

_Yes_. "No."

"Nothing?"

One of the hands on my shoulders presses down a little harder. It's still light, feather soft and hardly happening but I can _still feel it_. My shoulder is burning.

"No?" I say hesitantly, disliking the way it sounds like a question. Potter isn't playing fair at all! All these touches and whispers could be taken in two entirely different ways. One the one hand, touching someone's shoulder can hardly be considered as 'erotic'. But then again...

"Think _harder_." He insists. I do _not_ shudder when both hands on my shoulders squeeze slightly or the mouth by my ear blows hot air onto my skin. Seriously, I don't.

Think harder? I am harder than Potter will ever know. Much harder.

"Ok...I've t-thought of something," I whisper. And I have too. The thought of Potter doing this with anyone else is too terrifying to entertain. In my head, Potter is _mine_ – even if he isn't really. The Weaselette can go and live under a stone.

"Good," Potter agrees, the thumb rubbing imperceptible circles into my shoulder blade. "Now think how to make it amusing."

"Impossible," I murmur doubtfully. To my chagrin, Potter's mouth has gone from my ear, though the hands remain on my shoulders. If only Potter applies the tiniest amount of pressure I think I'd...

"It's not impossible. Nothing is impossible."

It's a nice sentiment of course, but it is utterly wrong. Some things are just too huge to overcome. Like Boggarts of your dead classmate. Or red headed shrews who have the boy of your dreams wrapped around their little finger. Like the fact that Potter is straight and I am engaged to a pure-blooded French girl. There is just no getting past them. It is impossible.

"Think of a happy memory," Potter's gentle voice explains to the back of my neck. "A feeling or a place or a person...anything that you can remember being a truly positive force. Doesn't matter if it's opening presents around the Christmas tree when you were five or if it's sharing a bottle of fire whiskey with Pansy and Blaise or –"

"_Wait_." The word is out while the rest of my brain is still catching up. But something he said...something he had just said... _if it's sharing a bottle of fire whiskey with Pansy and Blaise._ Oh. Oh no – he's not going to wiggle out of explaining _this_ one to me. There is no way I'm letting him get away with that slip up. Not without a fight.

"When did you start calling them that?" I demanded.

"Um...what?" Potter repeats slightly nervously, sounding an awful lot like he always does when Snape calls on him in class. And that's how I _know_ there is something Potter is not telling me. Something he's done or seen or heard about. And I want to know what it is.

I try to turn around so that I can see for myself his much too expressive eyes. I know without a doubt that they will give him away but unfortunately so does Potter.

His hands tighten into a death grip on my shoulders and I feel the flow of nervous energy stream into me. His braced arms meet head on with my determination to see his face. On the first attempt, all I end up doing is wriggling in the grip. The second time however I throw all my resolve behind it.

I do turn a full circle, as I had hoped, but with the disadvantage that Potter is still clinging onto my shoulders. So there we were in the Defence classroom, turning around and around in circles like a pair of idiots.

"I asked why you just called them Pansy and Blaise instead of Parkinson and Zabini. And what was that about firewhiskey?"

Fingernails dug into my shoulders anxiously. Things were just getting fishier and fishier. What had happened in the past week that had caused the shift in Potter's opinions of my friends?

I thought frantically to any and all time they had been together. There was the last Defence against the Dark Arts lesson we had all had together in which I knocked myself out on the wall and had to be taken to the hospital wing. And...the time when Potter was waiting outside our portrait hole and...in potions. Had something happened in potions? Blaise had been partnered with Potter, maybe some sort of loose friendship had formed between them? But no, Potions class only lasted an hour. Besides that, where would he have gotten the idea about the firewhiskey from?

"I didn't mean anything by it," came Potter's hastily reassuring voice. "Just a slip up that's all."

My frown deepened. "But..."

"I was just trying to get you to relax further. I thought that maybe the use of their first names would feel more...familiar to you, that's all."

Alright, I'm just going to take a moment to let you in on a commonly known fact. I grew up in a house full of _Malfoys_. My mother delights in mind games over the dinner table and every second word from my father's mouth is designed to manipulate you. So this little comfort act of Potter's? Really, it was a poor show in comparison.

I weighed up the pros and cons of calling him out on his blatant lie. On the one hand, if I told him flat out that I knew he was talking rubbish then he might be shamed into telling me the truth. But on the other hand... A Malfoy never gives away his advantage.

Perhaps I could hang onto this puzzle for a little longer. I could always interrogate Pansy and Blaise when I got back to the common room. I was enjoying this evening with Potter a little too much to let it descend into pointless arguing.

"Ok," I said, adding new definition to the word 'breezy'. "Thanks for...trying to make me more relaxed."

The grip on my arms dropped away entirely allowing me to turn around without hindrance. Potter looked...a bit like a fish. His mouth was hanging open in disbelief and his eyes were wide behind the lenses of his glasses. His train of thought was visible on his face. 'Did Malfoy just _let it go_?'

"Just like that?" Was all he seemed able to say.

I didn't allow myself the smile that was trying to claw its way onto my face. Instead I tried to look innocently surprised.

"I trust you not to lie to me," I said, watching steadily for a reaction. It was worth the wait. Potter's whole stance changed from slightly slumped to upright and attentive. And his face...his face...oh yes. A gleaming smile, teeth and all, was on display for me now. It was as if with that one comment I had finally secured a place in his good graces.

If I had known this was all it would take for him to accept me – just a simple "Potter I trust you" – we could have been friends for years.

"You trust me?" he checked, as though worried I was about to retract the statement. Internally I rolled my eyes in frustration. Why did Potter always suspect me of having hidden motives? My life was not designed to mess with Potter's perfect world. Not at all! Well...not much.

"Would you trust me to help you with your Boggart?"

"That's why we're here, isn't it?"

Potter brought up a hand to stroke his chin absently. I followed the path of the fingers with a greedy gaze. "Yes I suppose you're right. So let's go back to what we were doing before then shall we? Think of a happy memory."

Oh that _again_. I would much rather stand here and look at Potter than think about stuff with my eyes closed. Time well spent and all of that...

Happy memories, fun memories, positive memories... I tried to cast my mind back to my personal life, tried to locate a cheerful time. Obviously nothing with Voldemort was going to enter into consideration so that discounted most of this nightmarish year. None of the time where Father was in jail so that cuts out all of fifth year. Maybe something from here, a happy memory from Hogwarts...

But on my first day of school I got rejected by the gorgeous boy in front of me.

And it's just been downhill from there hasn't it?

Alright so nothing from school. How about from home? Well there was...um...how about the time when...

Oh Merlin there must be _something_ I like from home! My Mother, my Father, my ancestral home, being waited on hand and foot by an army of house elves...

No, wait, I've got it! The first time that I saw Pansy on a broomstick – that has _definitely_ got to qualify as amusing. After whining at me no end for a turn on my racing broom I yielded and let her on behind me. Her tiny hands wrapped around my waist so tight it almost split me in half. The high pitched screams of a five-year-old Pansy yelling her heart out for me to stop, still brings a smile to my face.

"Ok, I've got it," I mutter, trying in vain to think of nothing but the way Pansy's hair looked like the epitome of windswept when we finally landed and caught our breath.

"Ready to try it out on the real thing?" Potter asks, interrupting my thoughts.

"Mm-hmm," I say vaguely, not really paying attention. I'm still thinking about that lovely girly scream as we did a loop-the-loop.

"Great!" Potter says enthusiastically, a hand clapping me on the shoulder happily. "I'll go let it out."

My eyes flew open in confusion and then in alarm as Potter began moving away from me, back to the trunk. He was dragging me with him, hands clutching tightly at my robes.

"Whoa, wait, Potter!" I yelped, trying to wrench my arm out of reach. Potter's grip was like steel. "Wait just one second!"

Potter tugs me to a stop a few feet in front of the trunk and smiles widely. His hands are holding my upper arms as if to prevent me from bolting. I can't pretend it isn't tempting.

"You said you were going to teach me from the beginning! What are you doing?"

"I'm helping you," Potter says casually, as if it is the most natural thing in the world to be helping me. This is beginning to feel a bit surreal. "I'm good at helping people."

There are so many ways that Potter could be helping me that I would appreciate a lot more. More shoulder touching for instance. But he has got a point about the whole 'helping people' thing. If I was to be saved by anyone, I would want it to be Harry Potter. What an odd thought.

"Right," I agree mindlessly. _Go ahead and help me Potter. Save me as many times as you want. At the end of the day you'll always go back to the Weaselette. _

He's still holding my arms. Does he notice that his thumbs are once again doing the circle rubbing thing?

"So let me help you."

No.

"...Okay...yes, help." In truth I have no idea what is coming out of my mouth. It might be French for all I know. Only that Potter is smiling at me again. And I want him to keep smiling.

"Alright then," he says. As the words are spoken his hands are gone from my arms. The moment that the fingers drop away from me, the world seems to come back into focus. Did I just agree to...what did I just agree to?

In two short strides he has made his way over to the trunk containing the Boggart. With great reluctance, I follow suit.

His tanned hands grip onto the trunk's lock, ready to slide it open and let the Boggart out. His eyes are flicking between me and the trunk as though unsure which to focus on. For once I wish it was the trunk. Those penetrating gazes are starting to undo me.

"Just so you know..." Potter says quietly, "Once the boggart comes out, I won't leave you. I'll be right here, helping you from the sidelines."

"Right." Potter will stay me. I wish he would stay with me forever. "I believe you."

~O~

My eyes hone in on the lock which has already been halfway undone by those sinfully gorgeous fingers.

_Run away_! My mind yells at me, self preservation kicking in at long last. _Get as far away from the trunk as you can_! I take a tentative step backwards and then another, placing more distance between myself and the sinisterly rattling piece of furniture.

"Please Malfoy," a voice says gently from the floor. "Please just try once more. I'll help you, I promise."

You know how I said that I trusted Potter and everything? Well I'm starting to think that maybe I rushed into that declaration. Trust is a big thing. Huge, in fact. Do I really trust Potter not to point and laugh when he sees my fear of my own _father_? Do I trust him no to turn away in disgust when he sees that having the Dark Mark burned into my arm is one of my worst nightmares?

When he's giving me the pouty I-wish-you'd-believe-me look like he is right now, I think that I might just be persuaded.

"Ok." The word is a sigh, a reluctant agreement composed purely of air. Potter seems to understand this to be the green flag.

"Go!" he shouts loudly, making me jump.

"Go where?" I ask blankly, until I see that the lid of the trunk had been taken away completely, leaving it open and gaping. "I – you –" I splutter incoherently.

"Shhh," he whispers. I don't need to be told twice because even if I wanted to, I don't think I could make a noise right now.

Harry Potter's double, his replica down to the last freckle on his face, has climbed out of the trunk. The sensation that my heart is pumping to every other part of my body is elating and brain-mashing. Because this is the excited version of Potter that I hardly ever see. This is post-Quidditch victory Potter, being slapped on the back by every passing Gryffindor. He looks...radiant, as dorky as that sounds.

He's grinning and letting out little chuckles of laughter, like the thing that has him so amused has gone a stage beyond laughter. It's fascinating to watch – so fascinating that I forget it has to end.

The Potter from the trunk is ignoring both the real Potter (who is standing just behind the trunk and trying to look impassive) and me. It shouldn't do, but I feel the first stabbings of reject washing over me. Potter never ignores me. We're always bickering, always fighting, always doing something...not overlooking each other. That is so wrong.

Boggart Potter seems to think that the scene is a bit boring too. He sighs good-naturedly and rolls his eyes before reaching an arm into the trunk.

"Come on, what's taking you so long?" he asks the empty case.

Or maybe the not-so-empty case. The red hair of Ginny _fucking_ Weasley has just emerged from the trunk, the hand of which is gripping onto Potter's to steady herself. She's wearing the same happy-dazed look that Potter is sporting but on her face it looks much uglier.

Using their linked hands, Potter twirls the Weaselette until she is flush against his chest. I notice with a fresh stab of jealously that Ginny Weasley is above average in the height department. She is perhaps an inch or so taller than me.

And, as she now insists on showing me, she is the perfect height to kiss Harry Potter. _My_ _Harry_. The Boy-who-lived-to-slowly-seduce-me. And she's _kissing_ him! Full on the lips too, that little bint. Not subtlety whatsoever! Just tilted her head up expectantly and claimed his lips.

I watched in silent fury, my hands curling into fists of anger. How dare she, how _dare_ she that little... I waited impatiently for Potter to throw her off.

But...Oh. Oh _shit_. This wasn't happening right at all. Boggart Potter wasn't throwing off her hands and pulling faces of disgust the way he should be...no, Boggart Potter was actually responding. Responding rather exuberantly. Yep, Potter's tongue was being much too energetic to be feeling repulsed.

As both of the Gryffindor lovers threw themselves more and more passionately into the kiss I couldn't look anymore. I wrapped a hand over my eyes while a low distressed sound came from my throat. To my embarrassment it sounded almost like a _whine_. This is so bloody awful. It literally couldn't get any worse.

"Ginnnnny..." Boggart Potter moans erotically. "I l-love y-you..."

Spoke too soon – what a big surprise. I'm making that whiney sound again in the back of my throat, but I seriously can't stop. Potter is in love with the Weaselette bint! They're in love. _Love_. I can't compete with _love_.

"You're...afraid that I'm in love with Ginny?" says a soft voice from beside me. I turn away from the snogging couple, with slight difficulty, to see the real Potter standing next to me. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets (a Harry Potter trademark) and he is also turned away from the Boggart duo. He's looking at me.

"Maybe," I say vaguely, not willing to tell the truth but knowing that a lie told now would be utterly transparent. "Stop judging me will you?"

His perfect green eyes widen a fraction more. "I'm not judging you," he mutters. To my surprise, the sentiment sounds sincere. "I'm just..."

Repulsed. Scandalised. Nauseated. I couldn't agree more.

I whirl around so I'm facing the Boggart couple and whip out my wand. There is nothing in my head except that Potter can't see this, he just _can't_. I have to get rid of this. "Riddikulus!"

_Crack_!

The Boggart Gryffindors turn into... one single Boggart Gryffindor. Harry Potter. On the floor, lying in a river of his own blood. And I know, can feel it in my very bones, that I've killed him. It was me. I, being the pathetic Slytherin that I am, handed him over to the Dark Lord. His death is my fault.

My knees buckle out from under me, leaving me kneeling on the floor midway the dead Potter and the live one. The horrible wrenching feeling in my stomach is enough to make me cradle my face in my hands. I don't care that I look like the embodiment of broken, it's how I feel.

Eyes still covered, I point my wand blindly in front of me and choke out another "R-R-Riddikulus!"

_Crack_!

Harry Potter screams as he gets placed under the Cruciatus curse.

"Riddic–"

"_Malfoy_." Someone has grabbed me by the shoulders and is pulling me gently but firmly to my feet. I wobble unsteadily, my legs feeling like jelly. I try fruitlessly to throw off the hands of my captor but to no avail. A delicate finger works its way under my chin and tilts it up. Potter is examining my terrified face, green eyes looking into my soul again. Very slowly the hand that isn't holding my chin in place, wipes away the wetness that appears to have come from my eyes.

I tense up when I realise that its _tears_ that the pad of his thumb is swiping away. Tears that I'm spilling for something that's not even _real_. _Get a hold of yourself Draco! Only third year Hufflepuff girls cry over Boggarts. _That sobered me up considerably.

I was no third year girl.

I tugged my chin out of his grip and folded my arms defensively. It would take more than that to break me! ...I hope.

"You stopped thinking of the happy memory," he muttered to my blank mask. "That's why it didn't work."

Oh sure. It has nothing to do with the fact that I suck at Defence against the Dark Arts or that facing fears is definitely not my area of expertise. It's all because I stopped thinking about a terrified five-year-old Pansy Parkinson on the back of my broomstick for more than a few seconds. Potter always knows best.

I refused to dignify that with an answer. Assuming my best impression of I'm-so-much-better-than-you, I looked haughtily at Harry Potter's bemused expression. The words I was waiting to hear from Potter's lips – "Let's just leave the lesson here for today shall we Malfoy?" – crashed around me when he spoke.

"You look just like your father when you do that."

My mouth opened in sheer disbelief. I look nothing like Father! Yes, we have the same silky blond hair but I've cut mine short and spiky. And sure we have the same sort of face and maybe the same grey eyes and...well pretty much everything. But I don't look like him. Not really. Not at all.

"I don't look like him." Did Potter notice the shudder that passed through my entire body? I hope not.

"No you don't, most of the time. It's just when you do this," he stuck his nose in the air clearly doing a very bad impression of me. "The nose-in-the-air thing. That's when you look like him."

Note to self: never _ever_ stick nose in the air again. Ever.

"Whatever Potter. It doesn't matter who I look like."

The Boggart Potter behind me had stopped screaming a while ago, presumably dead. Potter's eyes kept darting from me to just over my right shoulder where I knew it must be. How strange it must be to see yourself die.

"Do you want to have another go?"

"No."

"Just one more try? I'll help you through it, step by step."

"You said that last time." I may have believed him before, but I was getting wise to Potter's tricks now. A flashback of my childhood sprang to mind. I was three and my father had bought me my first ever broom. The day had been so magical, gliding along the lawns of the manor with Father running along behind, holding the tail end of the broom to make should it didn't go too fast.

The wind was blowing my hair into my eyes something horrid and I had to keep shaking my head so I could see. Knowing Father would reprimand me for not tying it back before we started I began wondering why he wasn't shouting at me yet.

I turned around on the seat of the broom to ask him...only to find him standing by the back door, talking to Mother. He had let go some time ago, probably have gotten bored with the proceedings. The first time that I crashed a broom was the first time I realised that people go back on their promises.

The same thing was happening again. Potter had promised to hold the tail end of my broom and now here he was letting me go.

"I wanted to see how you would do on your own," he whispered earnestly. "I didn't mean to let you get so distressed. This time will be better I promise."

Again with the promises. We all know how they turn out don't we?

"There's not going to be a next time," I said through gritted teeth. "I've done what Lupin told me to do. I came here; I listened to what you had to say. I tried to get rid of it and I failed, alright? It's over, I'm going."

I brushed past Potter hurriedly and scooped up my school bag from the table. I was already halfway out of the door when his voice called me back. I was so close to escaping I could practically _taste_ the corridor outside. So close.

"When I was younger I used to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs!"

Knowing I was probably going to regret it but unable to stop myself, I turned slowly back to face Potter. "What?"

Looking relieved that I had taken the bait, Potter took a step towards me. "I slept in a cupboard until I was ten years old and then after that I got to move into my cousin's old bedroom. I used to steal food from the fridge and store it under the loose floorboard in my room. My favourite food is treacle tart and I always eat the red sweets first from the packet. I sleep on my back and I mostly dream in black and white. I'm really afraid of Dementors and of being all alone in the world."

A long silence filled the gap between us. I couldn't think of a single intelligent thing to say. Why was Potter telling me all this? Surely parts of it were made up, like the parts about him sleeping in a cupboard. House-elves sleep in cupboards, not saviours. My thoughts spilled out onto my tongue.

"Why are you telling me all of this?" I managed to whisper.

He gave me a small smile and a shrug. Both seem effortless but there's something warm and fragile in the look he's giving me. He's trusting me. "It seems that lately everyone seems to know your secrets. Now that you know a few things about me...well, it just seems fairer."

So _that_ was what he was doing. It still really wasn't fair though. Potter and the rest of the school had found out I have a crush on a guy. I had found out that Potter has a thing for treacle tart.

Apparently sensing my lack of confidence, Potter takes another step forwards.

"I used to be scared of the dark" he murmurs, lips hardly moving at all. "And of my cousin, Dudley. One time when we were at primary school together he duct-taped me to one of toilets. I was in there all day until the caretaker found me." A faraway look had come over Potter's face.

"What's duck tape?" I asked in hushed tones. It didn't matter how soft my voice had become, the question still seemed to snap Potter out of his trance.

He laughed briefly and placed a tentative hand on my elbow. "I'll tell you later. I'll tell you everything...after you've beaten this Boggart."

I rolled my eyes while inside my heart raced. He'd tell me everything? Everything was a lot. Even though Harry Potter had recently become my favourite topic, I didn't know much about him still. This was a golden opportunity.

And Malfoy's always get what they want.

~O~

"The problem last time was that you took your mind off your happy memory. You have to think of it constantly and as hard as you can."

We were still standing before the Harry Potter corpse. Apparently the Boggart wasn't about to change anytime soon. The thought annoyed me for some obscure reason. It's like the Boggart was comfortable where it was, just waiting for us to make a move.

"I _was_ thinking of the memory," I griped, twirling my wand through my fingers in agitation. Sometimes Potter was so damn irritating. Horrendously good-looking – but irritating all the same.

"Well then it's probably not powerful enough," Potter murmured, still looking calmly undeterred. "Think of something different."

Different? Was he kidding me? It took me long enough to come up with the first one! Sad as it may be, I don't really remember having that many happy memories. Of course there were the usual birthdays, Christmas', holidays – but in nearly all of them Father had had to excuse himself to go to the Ministry, or else had not even been there at all.

Happy thoughts, happy memories...the Christmas break that Blaise and I spent at Parkinson's last year _must_ qualify as being happy. Being so drunk that everything around us seemed utterly hilarious and towards the end of the night when we all fell asleep under one blanket. Yes, that was a happy time. Perhaps the happiest I've ever been.

"Got it," I breathed. Speaking above a whisper suddenly seemed unadvisable. I was trying with all my might to cling onto the light-headed happiness that comes with getting drunk with Pansy and Blaise. It was like trying to hold a soap bubble.

"Ok." Was it just me or did 'whispering Potter' manage to become merged with 'sexy husky Harry Potter'?

I snapped my eyes shut for what felt like the millionth time that evening. I needed no more distractions form Potter than from what I already had. Think of Pansy, think of Blaise, think of Pansy...

"Hold your wand steady," he breathed, coming to stand much closer. What a nice way to tell me that my hand is shaking. Rather suddenly I felt something warm touch the back of my hand. Dead Harry Potter Boggart?

No, not the Boggart. Real Harry was touching my hand, holding my hand. Oh sure, it might have been to get me to stop this absurd shaking I was doing or maybe to get me to point in the right direction but that _didn't matter_. Harry was holding my hand.

The fingers that glided over my own were rougher than mine. Calluses seemed to adorn most of his digits, the coarse skin passing sensuously over my own. And was it possible to be that _warm_? Harry was like a furnace against my icy cold hands.

"Such cold hands," he muttered against my shoulder. I smiled properly for the first time that day. We were made for each other. Harry was standing almost touching my back now, his outstretched right arm connected with mine from shoulder to hand.

Pansy's always telling me that I have height issues. 'Learn to love yourself for everything you are' she says. 'Even if you _are_ abnormally short.' This was the point that Blaise and I started hiding her _Witch Weekly_ subscriptions. But I guess she was a little bit right. I am the right height to be with Harry. He's proving that now by standing right behind me the way he is. If I were to turn round, I would be at just the right height to smell his neck.

I refrain from smelling his neck. In truth I don't really have too. Essence of Harry Potter is once again in the air, wrapping around me like a warm blanket. Toast, grass and soap. An odd combination but now one of my favourites. I wonder what I smelt like to him. I wonder if it even registered with him what I smelt like. Probably not.

"Such warm hands," I say, in way of reply. I know it's impossible for people to be able to _feel_ another person's smile, but I seriously think I can. It's Harry's brief show of teeth (which I can't see but strongly suspect) that is making the air of this cold dark room a bit warmer.

"When you cast the spell, let the emotion of the happy memory fill you up. Usually it's better if the memory is funny but as you said before that it didn't work for you..."

I shook my head. How could I think of something funny when Harry's blood was still flowing freely from the body on the floor? "I've already got a memory ready."

As he nodded his head is acceptance, some of that uncontrollable untamed hair brushed my neck. The feeling was tickly and unbearably wonderful at the same time.

A shock of emotions coursed through me at the soft touch. How would it be if Harry was mine and the only shoulder his unruly head of hair would _ever_ rest on would be my shoulder? What would it be like to wake up in the morning with Harry's head tucked into my side? What would it feel like to run my fingers through the ebony locks while we kissed?

"Riddikulus," came the whisper onto my ear. It hardly made contact with my brain before I was saying the word myself. Harry's hand that was still gripping the top of mine waved my wand for me.

And then...

_Crack_!

I had to blink several times before I realised what had happened. Even then I was a bit confused. "Where did it go?" I asked Harry blankly, looking about anxiously. The last thing I needed was for it to catch me by surprise.

The sound of Harry's laugh threw me so much that I turned around. His eyes were shining again and his mouth was set into a beaming smile. "You did it, Draco. I don't know what you were thinking of but you _did it_!"

Unable to control the urge, I hastily wrapped my arms around him.

I was right you know. We _did_ fit together. My head fit exactly into the space between Potter's shoulder and neck. Even though I knew that Harry was straight and with Weasley and all that other _crap_, I just couldn't help myself. I hugged him tighter.

And then the strangest thing happened. I felt a delicate shudder through Harry's body before tentative arms wrapped around my back. For a few seconds I didn't breath. This was probably the closest I would ever get to the vision that had gotten rid of the Boggart. Potter's hair was this time tickling my ear and the top of my forehead.

Even though it was a victory hug and everything...it was wonderful.

Harry only shook his head and pulled back when I made the mistake of running my fingers through his hair. And yes it was as soft as I'd imagined. And so much better.

"Sorry," I murmured when I saw he looked a touch uncomfortable. "Hand spasm."

His lips twitched as though he was about to laugh but then thought better of it. I held deadly still as his left hand lifted and hovered above my cheek bone. It was as if he wished to run a finger along the skin there. I looked at him in confusion until it slowly dawned on me with horror that his quizzical, half amused look, probably had something to do with the pale lipstick heart still adorning my eye.

I gave him the brief 'ask and die' look that I reserve for special occasions and then took a step backwards. He tucked his wand back into the belt of his trousers and straightened his shirt that I had managed to wrinkle.

"Well done today Malfoy." He said softly, touching me on the shoulder awkwardly and then putting several more feet of space between us.

"Thank you Potter." I didn't miss the way he blushed pink at my sincere tone. I tried to commit his flushed face to memory.

"So, same time this Thursday?"

"Um...what?"

"Do you want to meet here at the same time in a few days?"

"You mean we have to do this _again_?"

This time a smile did seep onto his face. It was beautiful. "_Yes_, we have to do this again. Just getting rid of it once with me holding your hand and reminding you of the incantation isn't enough. You need to perfect it."

"And this isn't some devious plan to get us to spend more time together?" I checked. The way that Harry stiffened and his face went blank told me that I'd taken it a bit too far. "I was just joking! Gees Potter, uptight much?"

Harry seemed to relax at my words like that one added sentence had quelled his worries. Was spending extra time with me outside the world of academics so repulsive to him? My shoulders slumped.

"So Wednesday after last lesson?" I tried to confirm.

"Yes."

"And when do you want me to return the...um...favour?"

Harry's face became suddenly pale like he was having an internal panic. "What f-favour?"

Merlin how many favours did I owe him? Only one sprang to mind but maybe I owed him something bigger, something more... I knew of a favour I would quite happily do for him. A wicked smirk crossed my face before I could school my features back into emotionless. Harry wasn't thinking of that. He _definitely_ wasn't thinking of that. He was probably one of those marriage-before-sex people. I hoped he was just for the fact that Ginny Weasley wouldn't be getting any anytime soon.

"The favour where I give you potions lessons," I said, watching Harry's face closely. There was something odd in the way that disappointment clouded his features before he forced a smile out.

"Oh that. Tuesday after school?"

"Can't. We have Quidditch practise."

A triumphant gleam sparked in Harry's green eyes before I'd realised what I'd done. The day he had waited for me outside the common room, I had lied and said that Blaise and I were running late for Quidditch practise. And now he'd caught me out. Damn it.

"Oh so you _do_ have your Quidditch practises on a Tuesday after all?" he said innocently.

I flicked the hair out of my eyes and looked at him as coolly as possible. "The timetable changed again."

"I'm sure it did." The maddening air of victory had settled over him like a cloak, all of his features falling under the influence of self-satisfaction. For once I didn't mind. It was bizarre to see Potter looking smug, but I can't pretend it wasn't pleasant.

"How about this Wednesday? I'll meet you in the library at half six."

"Done."

We stood looking at each other for a moment or so before both realising that the lesson was over. I hastily pulled on my robes over my school shirt and shoved my wand into the pocket. Picking up my school bag and slinging it over my shoulder I watched as Harry shoved the trunk back into its corner of the room.

Things hadn't gone as badly as I'd thought they would.

"Don't forget to bring your Potion books Potter," I called as I walked out the door. He raised a hand in acknowledgement and my heart sputtered in my chest.

It was only as I began walking slowly back to the Slytherin common room that I realised I had started to think of him as Harry.

~O~

The whole way down to the dungeons it felt as if I had lost several stone in weight. I've never really understood it when people say that they have a 'spring' in their step but now I think that every spring in the universe must be hidden away in my shoes.

Potter hugged me. He _hugged_ me! Well...actually _I_ hugged _him_ – but it's not like he threw me off or anything! This was the biggest breakthrough since... well, at least the cure to Dragon Pox. Perhaps even better.

I seemed to float down the numerous corridors I was _that_ happy. This is not how I thought the evening would end at all. I had predicted myself flouncing off at an early stage of the lesson, feeling much too patronised by Potter and his freakish aptitude at Defence.

My light heartedness flowed into my desire to find Pansy and Blaise (but mainly Pansy) as quickly as possible. Pansy is the biggest gossip collector I have ever met. She has something on _everyone_. As much as I despised being added to Pansy's long list of scandals, I also accepted that she was an excellent sounding board. She is a witch who has something to say about everything.

It didn't take me as long as I'd thought to track down Pansy and Blaise.

I had hardly placed a foot through the portrait hole when a jet of blue light hit me in the face. The sensation that a sponge was being wrung out over my head make me yell and squirm about trying to get rid of the cold and wet feeling.

"Pansy," I moaned as the shivery feeling passed. "I taught you that spell. That means you don't get to use it on me!"

"Be thankful she didn't Crucio your arse," Blaise said cheerily from in front of the fire. "She's been flipping out since you took off in Potions. Something about how you were 'mentally unstable' and did you _really_ think we wouldn't catch up with you later..."

Said witch had now stalked across the common room to stand before me, hands resting on slender waist. Her wand was still clenched in her right hand, tapping lightly against her hip. She looked formidable.

"Draco how could you just run off and...wait." Her whole expression turned from one of annoyance and frustration to one of suspicion. "What's happened?"

Ok, just because I love her, doesn't mean I can't toy with her a bit.

"Who say's anything happened?" I asked, as innocently as I could while still beaming.

"I've just doused you in imaginary cold water and you still look like you're about to burst into song. What's happened?"

I smiled at her innocently, rocking backwards and forwards on my heels in wonder. Had Harry and I really spent an entire evening without hexing each other? Had he even hugged me back for a moment?

Pansy scowled when the information did not come at once. Pansy is a brilliant shopper, can perform hair-care potions while blindfolded, can pick out real dragon hide boots from a row of fakes – but the one thing that Pansy Parkinson absolutely sucks at is being patient.

"Tell me immediately you little..." The rest of her words tailed off into a pout that would have broken the hearts of many unsuspecting boys. I smiled while I watched this patent display of naivety. Did she really think a move like that would work on me? I'm not _Blaise_ for Merlin's sake!

"Maybe later," I said dismissively, before walking over to fling myself next to Blaise. He moved his legs obligingly for me and then settled them across my lap. There was a stage in my life where a move like this would have deeply creeped me out. I'm glad I'm past that.

"What's happened Draco!" I only managed to move out of the way in time before Pansy sprawled in the nonexistent amount of remaining space left on the settee. She set up a relentless chant of 'tell me tell me tell me tell me...' until I threatened to dump her whiny arse off me and onto the floor.

"Is it...something school related?"

Harry did _go_ to this school...but he wasn't school _related_ per say.

"No. Not school related."

"Um...is it to do with Lucius and Narcissa?" She suddenly gained an excited look which with her next words became clear. "Have they finally decided to move out and give you the manor?"

I rolled my eyes in incredulity. "Pansy they would _never_ do that." This is entirely true. My father would rather...well, die.

"Oh." She seemed to take this fairly well considering how much she harps on about what I want to do with it once I have the manor all to myself. But that's just the thing though. It will just be me living there then. If I don't marry Cerise (which is looking less and less appealing the more time I spend around Harry) what'll I do?

I could ask someone to move in with me. A girlfriend maybe. But now...oh Merlin, cringe...maybe a boyfriend. Maybe Harry.

I laughed aloud at this, unable to contain it. Harry would never in a million year want to take two steps in the direction of where I live. The thought of him moving in with me to keep me company in the long empty halls? Ludicrous.

Pansy seemed even more determined to find out what was going on at the sound of my slightly bitter laughter. Blaise was watching the exchange peacefully enough, his fingers drumming contentedly on the back of the sofa.

"Is it to do with Cerise?" She ploughed on relentlessly. "Oh my Merlin, has she called off the engagement? Are you a free agent again? Can we get married now?" She squawked when Blaise's foot 'accidentally' whacked itself across her head, musing her hair. Even though it has always been Pansy and my ongoing joke that we will one day run away and get married, Blaise always takes it as a personal insult.

I wish they would start dating already. It's driving me crazy.

I answered Pansy while she tried to squirm away from Blaise's unwelcome foot. When you've known people this annoying for this long you learn to look past the insignificant things like a friend doing battle with a foot.

"No, so far me and Cerise are all systems go. You can expect our wedding invitation sometime in the near future." I held in my sigh of unease and tried to change the subject to lighter things. "And no, unfortunately Pansy, you and I will never be. You're just too far below my station. My father would never understand. " I placed a hand over my eyes in mock despair while Blaise sniggered and Pansy whipped the cushion out of my hands to wallop me with it.

"I want to know what's happened," Pansy moaned in the way that only certain people can. The vowel sounds were much too dragged out to be human. "I've just wet-sponged you and you still look like you're on cloud nine. What has _happened_?"

"Maybe you'll just have to wait and see."

She jumped on this non-existent piece of information. "So it is something we will be able to see then? Like that you've finally embraced your inner Hufflepuff and decided to defect?"

"Ha-bloody-ha." I snatched the tasselled cushion from under Blaise's head so that I could stroke it. He made a muffled curse when his head collided with the arm of the chair. I smoothed the hair over his forehead condescendingly. I needed that cushion more than Blaise did. I needed to stroke the cushion tassel and pretend that it was Harry's hair.

Ah, Harry Potter's hair... From the few seconds that I had threaded my fingers through it, I had known true bliss. Before he pushed me away, that is. But that was understandable because Potter was with the Weasel-bitch and Potter doesn't cheat. Harry wouldn't cheat – even the fingers-in-hair style of cheating. He was just too Gryffindor for that.

"Ah, I know what it is..." Blaise tucked both hands behind his head and wiggled more comfortably into the sofa. He looked like he had just inhaled a calming draft.

"You do?" Pansy and I asked at the same time. How did Blaise know? An incomprehensibly panicky feeling gripped my insides. I shouldn't feel nervous, I reminded myself. I was going to tell both of them anyway, what did it matter if Blaise guessed? But it wasn't really that and even I couldn't lie to myself. The mere fact remained that if Blaise could read my thoughts of the evening straight off my face, I was a disgrace to the name Malfoy.

Had he remembered that I had extra Defence against the Dark Arts practice this evening and put two and two together? But surely he didn't know that Potter had volunteered to teach me. I had only discovered that myself when I had arrived. So what was it? Was it perhaps a look in the eye, a crease in the lips or even a subtle tilt of the head? Was I so totally readable?

"Well ok, I don't know _exactly_ what's happened but I think I definitely know what it's about."

"What's it about?" Pansy and I said again at the same time. We glanced at each other with good humour in a way that stems from deep childhood friendship.

"Look at his face Pans," Blaise said calmly, turning Pansy's face around with his foot. After shrieking with disgust at the toes touching her chin, she cooled down enough to do what he said.

In case it has never happened to you, let me tell you what it is like to have Pansy and Blaise tip their heads on the side and scrutinise you. It is very disconcerting and very funny.

"Stop laughing!" Pansy demanded, slapping me across the knees. "I'm trying to stare at you and you're _ruining_ it Draco!"

"Whoa Pans," Blaise sniggered, grabbing Pansy wrists before they could resume their attack on my knees. "Did you see it though? Did you see The Look?" That's exactly how he said it too, like it had capital letters at the start. This made me feel oddly affronted.

A slow, catlike, grin spread out across Pansy's face. "Yes I saw it."

This was ridiculous. First Blaise apparently knows what I know – though I have no idea how he could have found out – and now Pansy and Blaise appear to know something about me which I'm not sure that I know about myself.

"What look?" I asked, intrigued. Did I look generally happier, healthier, in much better spirits?

"You're wearing your Potter Look," they said together. I didn't give them a chance to laugh about the continued synchronisation. There were much bigger things going on.

"And what the hell is my 'Potter Look'?" I cut in quickly. I was met with two secret smiles.

"Well," said Pansy slowly, glancing at a smirking Blaise and then back at me. "I can't describe it. Only that it looks like..." She flicked my nose hard with her index finger. "That."

Only after I had flicked her back, twice, did I answer.

"Let me get this straight," I said feeling irritated. "You can tell that I'm thinking of Harry when I look I've been flicked in the face?"

Blaise said "The boy gets it!" right at the moment that Pansy shrieked "First name terms! You're on first name terms! Oh my Merlin Draco – how long have you been shagging him and why didn't you tell –"

"Shhh!" I hissed, clapping a hand over her mouth. Several people in the common room were looking over at us curiously now, something I definitely didn't want. "We're not shagging and I'd really appreciate it if you stopped shouting that we are!"

"But you're on first name terms!" came the muffled reply from behind my hand. Every time she said it, she bounced a little on the seat, causing Blaise and I to jiggle too.

"So bloody what?! Lots of people are on first name terms! Oh my God," I imitated Pansy's excited voice "you and Blaise use each other's first names _all the time_! Does that mean that you two are shagging?"

Blaise blushed so hard that under any other circumstances I could have accused him of being a Gryffindor in disguise. Realising instinctively that this was not the time to tease, I turned to listen to Pansy who was once a talking. As if she does anything else.

"That's different and you know it is D," she said dismissively. "Blaise and me – as if!" she rolled her eyes in sheer incredulity and then moved the conversation on impatiently.

Blaise had slid so far down into the seat he practically integrated himself with the chair. I felt a wave of pity wash over me for my poor unfortunate roommate. To have the girl of your dreams reject you so demurely must be a crushing blow. To have your friend set you up for the fall, however accidentally... I cringed in shame.

"Sorry," I whispered to the top of Blaise's head while Pansy continued on with her tirade about the importance of first names. "I didn't think it would backfire like that..."

"Not a problem," the dejected murmur came from the boy who was trying desperately to hide his scarlet face in the soft comfort of the sofa cushions. "It was inevitable."

I swallowed and tried not to sigh too loudly. I had experienced only recently the hurt that a rejection can cause; that knife-in-rib moment where that special person pushes you aside for someone else. In my case I had been overlooked not only for the Weaselette but for girls in general. Even after tonight with the rush of spending an evening with Harry and our brief hug, having to leave him had still felt awful. What must it be like then to have the girl that you care about laugh at the very idea of dating you?

My insides clenched in sympathy for Blaise.

"...And that is how I can tell that you and Potter are soul-mates!" Pansy finished triumphantly, her hands gesticulating wildly to emphasise whatever point she had just made.

"Well as you've got it all figured out then I guess you won't need me to tell you what actually happened tonight," I said offhandedly, making as if to stand up and escape to the boy's dormitory. As I had known it would, a pale, pink-nailed hand shot out and pulled me back onto the sofa.

"You are such a bloody tease Draco Malfoy."

"Yes and you love me for it."

It was easy to see that she was debating giving me another turn with the wet sponge. I hoped she didn't. The dungeons were cold enough as it was.

I leant in close so that I could look Pansy straight in her over-excited brown eyes. Her mouth was twitching at the corners in enthusiasm, ready to break out into a smile at any moment. She was bouncing worse than ever now, her whole body leaving the couch with each jump.

Relenting at last, I gave in to temptation and began the story of my afternoon, starting from when I took off in Potions. Blaise's eyes had peeked out from around a deep green cushion to watch me as I talked. Pansy had settled down at last with her legs thrown across my lap and intermingling with Blaise's.

One thing I will say for Pansy and Blaise is that they are an excellent crowd. Pansy swoons and giggles and shrieks in all the right places and to his credit, Blaise always laughs in exactly the exact place that requires humour and no more. Both watch raptly, one mentally comparing my story to every Witch Weekly article she's ever read about Potter and the other reserving all judgements until the end.

I relay the story uninterrupted until I reach the part about the hug. At the news that I enveloped the boy-hero in my arms Pansy shrieks and grabs my hand, her face a picture of thrill. "What did he say afterwards?" she whispered, entranced. "Did he confront you? Did he ignore it? Did he make you take the Unbreakable Vow? What did _you_ say?"

I grinned even as I tried to rack my brains for our conversation after that. What had Harry said about my momentary lapse of control? Or more importantly, what had _I _said?

"I seem to remember saying something along the lines of having a momentary hand spasm, to avoid the awkward situation of having to explain why I was running my fingers through his hair." I explained.

Blaise rolled his eyes and muttered what sounded like "smooth," but it was hard to tell due to the cushion barrier still covering his face.

Pansy looked undeterred by this. "Yes we know that you are an idiot Draco. We also know how badly you suck at improvisation thanks to when lover boy cornered you outside the common room. What we want to know is what did _Potter_ say?"

I frowned at the mention of the scene which I had been trying – rather successfully until now – to block out. "Are you not bored of that story yet?" I complained. "And anyway, I can't really remember what Harry said. I think he said well done about the Boggart thing."

"Out of interest, what were you thinking of when you banished it?" Blaise asked curiously. "What memory?"

"Um..." Oh come on! A guy can have a few secrets to himself can't he? "I'm afraid that that top secret information is never to leave the walls of the Defence against the Dark Arts classroom, Blaise."

Blaise shrugged. "Worth a try," he muttered.

"I'm so happy for you D," Pansy sighed, cuddling up to my side and playing with my fingers. "I'll bet Potter's already starting to doubt his sexuality as we speak."

"I wish," I muttered quietly. "Harry's as straight as a wand."

"Yeah, a wand who likes hugging other boys."

There was no arguing with her when she was like this. Her tiny face nuzzled into my arm until I gave in a wrapped it around her small shoulders. All three of us lay there; one on a high, one who was currently trying to wiggle her way closer to me and one who looked embarrassed and annoyed.

"Since you've got such good taste Draco," Pansy purred, stretching herself like a cat in front of the fire. "Tomorrow you pick out _my_ Prince Charming for me. I'm tired of being single in this school full of hot boys. In the way of suggestions, there's this scorching hot Ravenclaw boy who is quite – hey! Blaise, where're you going?"

Blaise had untangled his legs from Pansy's in a flourish and stood up. His muted reply sounded something like "Away from _you_," but I couldn't be sure. With one last injured look at the oblivious Pansy, Blaise turned on his heel and stalked up the stairs to the boy's dormitory.

"Actually, I'm feeling a bit tired too Pans, goodnight." I faked a yawn and then kissed her hastily on the cheek before allowing myself to follow after Blaise.

"This is what I get for making friends with boys!" she huffed. As I looked back from my position at the bottom of the staircase, I saw Pansy sitting all alone on the big black couch, her knees drawn up to her chest looking utterly confused.

I waved to her in goodnight and then took the stairs up to the dormitory two at a time.

There would be time later tonight for me to think about the shape and colour of Harry's eyes and the silky texture of his hair. There would be hours spent behind the curtains of my bed for me to recreate the touch of Harry's warm hand on my skin.

But right now I had to carry out my duties as best friend and sort out my fuming roommate. Salazar, give me strength.

~O~

**AN:** Draco angst, Pansy/Blaise angst, lots of misunderstandings…when will it all be resolved? At my say-so of course! Haha! Thank you for reading this chapter and for waiting so patiently. Next chapter coming soon, stay tuned! :)


	9. Denial is my middle name

**AN:** Hello again! Firstly, to all those people who think I have abandoned this story – I assure you I have not. I will continue writing this until it is finished, life has just been a bit crazy. Also, thank you for all the reviews! I _love_ reading them.

This chapter is once again Harry's. The last one I wrote from his perspective seemed appreciated by all you readers and his version of the lesson with Draco was clambering to be written. Harry thoughts throughout the day were funny and confusing and I badly wanted to write them. So I did.

Harry's POV about the potions class and the Boggart lesson took such a long time to write (Harry thinks about things a lot apparently) that I ended up writing 20,739 words. Because of this, Harry's huge POV chap has been split into two smaller chapters, the next one posted shortly.

~O~

If you didn't read my author's note all you need to know is: This chapter picks up right after the potions cupboard encounter but from Harry's POV. Happy reading. 

**Chapter 9 – Denial is my middle name**

I was perhaps 98% convinced that Malfoy would not arrive to Transfiguration after our disastrous Potions lesson that afternoon.

In fact I would have placed a very large amount of money of it. But that did not stop me, not one little bit, from peering at the door every five seconds to see if he had arrived. For every student that entered the room I craned my neck to see if they had silver blond hair, if they were accompanied with Parkinson or Zabini, if they were a head shorter that everyone else...

My leg was bouncing up and down in agitation, my fingers tapping out a tuneless rhythm on the desktop. Damn it all, I felt _nervous_. If Malfoy walked into the room what should I do? Nod politely? Wave? Say hello?

None of these seemed like appropriate things after our little Potions cupboard escapade.

People all around me were talking about the Potions room scandal where Malfoy had ended up punching Seamus in the face. I did not feel a smidgen of pity for Seamus. If Malfoy hadn't punched him, I think that I might have done. What a homophobic dick, honestly...

Not that I was sticking up for gay people or anything! I just...think that maybe Hermione was right with her whole 'it's ok to be gay!' speech this morning at breakfast. Of course I was pretending not to listen and all, but that doesn't mean anything. Freedom of choice and all that.

"Harry would you stop jiggling about?" Hermione asked impatiently, holding on to her inkbottle as my bobbing leg made contact with her table.

"Sorry," I said, because it was expected. What I really _wanted_ to howl was "Where the heck is Draco Malfoy?!"

At five minutes to nine, I slumped in my chair and willed the huge swell of frustration inside me to go away. So what if Malfoy didn't attend Transfiguration that afternoon? I certainly wouldn't miss him. And I hadn't chosen to sit disturbingly close to the other Slytherins on _purpose_. It was just a spontaneous decision, that was all.

There really was no need for the Slytherins to keep shooting me scathing looks. I was avoiding everyone's eye.

When Blaise Zabini finally came into the room at last I felt my spirits lift considerably. If Malfoy was to arrive fashionably late with anyone it would surely is his best friend, right?

Wrong. After a quick search, I deduced that Blaise was not accompanied by Draco, only Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott. I turned back towards the front of the class, trying hard to convince myself that no; I was not disappointed, because I had no _reason_ to be disappointed.

When Ron elbowed me in the side a few seconds later with an excitably flailing limb, I did not gripe. I should _not_ be miserable right now. I tried to perk up and listen to what my friends were saying.

"...And then did you see his face?" Ron crowed gleefully to me and Hermione, leaning across the table in his enthusiasm. "He looked ready to cry, the stupid sod!"

I pushed the palms of my hands into my eyes and tried to take deep calming breaths. What happened with Malfoy in Potions was in the past and there was absolutely nothing to be gained from dwelling on it. And if you want to be picky about it, not much _had_ happened anyway. I had come into the storage cupboard to see Draco cursing and jumping, trying to reach the top shelf. And so what if I had stood extra close to him, so close I could feel his warm breath on my neck? I was helping him collect his ingredients, that was all.

"...And the way he punched Seamus! How uncalled for was that?"

I remembered vividly the look on Draco's face when he punched Seamus. Ever since we had come back from the cupboard, my mind had been set to 'Malfoy over-drive', so much so that I couldn't take my eyes off him. I let Blaise do most of the work while I watched Neville and Draco out of the corner of my eye. To my surprise they seemed to be getting along fine...no hexes thrown anyway. Though at one point Draco did banged his head on the desk, it did not look to be in disgust. At the time it seemed to be more like...hopelessness? I didn't dare label it that in case I was wildly mistaken.

Ron's long rant continued in loud tones. "And then when he said – hey!"

I jerked out of my thoughts just in time to see a balled up piece of paper hit Ron squarely between the eyes. The aforementioned parchment had landed on our desk to be swept up and unfurled by Hermione. I grinned at Ron's stunned expression.

The perpetrator, Blaise Zabini, glared at Ron through narrowed eyes and drew a finger across hit throat threateningly. A glance sideways showed me that Theo sat to his left, deep in hushed discussion with Pansy. I caught Pansy's lips move to form the word 'Draco'.

Funny how I am somehow able to lip-read Draco's name out of random conversations...

Both Pansy and Theo's eyes suddenly flicked over to where I was sitting before looking hastily away again. I felt a shiver go up my spine. They were talking about me and they were talking about Draco. Was it possible they were talking about me and Draco together?

_I've been in your dormitory,_ I thought uncomfortably as I looked away from Theo. _You weren't even there but I still feel guilty_.

And I did feel guilty. It was wrong to observe the Slytherins while their barriers were down but at the same time...I couldn't bring myself to regret it _too_ much. Seeing Draco so human and so sad had definitely been an experience that changed me. And by 'changed me' I mean 'fucked with my head'. No matter what I did now, I just couldn't get Draco Malfoy's hurt face from my thoughts.

Ron had taken the unravelled piece of paper from Hermione and read it with a snort. He passed it to me in amusement. The neatly written words still packed a punch with their meaning. _Leave Draco alone Weasel or you will find yourself at the bottom of the Black Lake_.

"How ridiculous," Ron said airily to Hermione and me. "He thinks that _he_ can intimidate _me_! Ha!"

"I suppose you were talking a bit loud, and about his friend too," said Hermione reasonably. She had been trying valiantly to move the conversation away from Malfoy linked topics ever since we had left the potions room. "Maybe you should stop antagonising them Ron."

Ron's mouth opened in disbelief. He leaned forwards conspiratorially to both of us. I braced myself for the onslaught of Malfoy related abuse that was surely about to erupt. I wasn't disappointed.

"Hermione I can't believe you! Who was it, for all these years that has made fun of us and tried to get us into trouble? Who tried to sabotage our Quidditch match in third year by dressing up as Dementors? Who always calls you a..." He lowered his voice to a whisper, "_Mudblood_?"

For some _tremendously_ strange reason I found myself wanting to defend Malfoy's actions. Everyone had bad qualities. Hermione was a workaholic, Ron had anger-management issues and I...well, apparently I have a hero-complex. Ron would have probably shipped me off to St Mungo's the next day if I said a word in Malfoy's defence however so I kept my mouth firmly shut.

Ron had raised his eyebrows as though waiting for us to answer. When neither of us did, he burst out "_Malfoy_ did! That's who! And now at long last Mr Smug And Perfect has tripped. He's gone loopy, kissing Harry in corridors, lashing out in potions...why can't I just be the one to tease _him_ for once Hermione? Why?"

"Because it's _mean_!" Hermione hissed back. It was not the best argument I had ever heard but I nodded anyway, backing her up. "You would kick him when he's down and confused about his sexuality?"

Ron and I blinked at her in surprise. I for one had never expected Hermione to be so...sympathetic...to Malfoy's case. Especially right after that Potions lesson where he had singlehandedly beaten Hermione to every question.

"Would you react the same if it was Harry?" she asked reasonably.

My heart almost burst through my chest, I'm sure of it.

"I'm not gay!" I hissed. The words sounded false even though they were completely 100% true. "Hermione! I'm going out with Ginny!"

It was abnormal how many times I used Ginny to defend myself these days. Whether it kept me sane while sneaking into Slytherin dorms and watching Draco and Blaise kiss, or at times like this were Hermione was casting aspersions on me. It made no sense given that I have nothing to prove.

"I know," she said coolly, though now eyeing me with slight suspicion. "I was just saying it as an example."

"Yeah, well, Harry's different to the Ferret, isn't he?" said Ron, punching me lightly on the shoulder. "Harry's my best mate. Malfoy is a little..." He trailed off unexpectedly. It was only when I saw that Pansy Parkinson had her eyes locked murderously on Ron that I deduced the situation. I smirked a little, remembering her reaction in Potions.

As unfathomable as it would seem, it appeared that Draco, Pansy and Blaise were in actual fact, tight friends. Maybe as close as Ron, Hermione and I. The thought was...odd. They had certainly praised him to the hilt when he outperformed Hermione when answering Snape's questions.

Thinking about this made me smile. Who would have guessed that Malfoy, the Slytherin most inclined to sit at the back of the class and not pay attention, was actually intelligent? Of course I had known he was _clever_, but only so far as the cunning Slytherin streak. The quick responses in our verbal spats over the years had proven that much at least. This was a pleasant surprise.

I tried kept my thoughts well clear of what had happened after this little display. I was not going to think about the potions cupboard. Seriously, I wasn't. Nothing could have been further from my perfectly straightforward thoughts. Because as a Gryffindor I was both straight _and_ forward...obviously.

"What do you think Harry, mate?" Ron's voice miraculously made it to my addled thoughts. I had no clue whatsoever what the conversation was about. I thought maybe Hermione had said something about Quidditch...or homework that was due in. Probably the homework.

Not wanting to admit that Malfoy had taken up residence in my thoughts _yet again_, I replied as smoothly as I could.

"Yes," I said, taking a guess. "Definitely."

"You think that your next Quidditch match against Slytherin should be played _naked_?" Hermione said in incredulity. "Oh my God Harry!"

"What – no! I –"

"I _told_ you he wasn't listening," Hermione said triumphantly, rolling her eyes at Ron. "You owe me a sickle." Ron moaned and shuffled around in his seat.

I was _horrified_. Our next match against Slytherin played _naked_? How could I have agreed, even subconsciously, to that? A shiver passed through my entire body as the thought drifted unbidden across my brain. _Gryffindors and Slytherins flying...naked. That would be interesting_. And then in a much smaller voice, _Malfoy naked!_

Malfoy would be playing against me in the next Slytherin vs. Gryffindor match.

"No, no, no, no, no, no..." I muttered, rubbing both hands over my eyes frantically. I had to get the images out of my head before they turned me insane. I would never be able to look Malfoy in the eyes again!

But there would be nothing to fear as Malfoy would be fully clothed and so would I. This was good, great, perfect. I had no desire – not even a tiny bit of one – to see Malfoy in the buff. No, by now all I desired was to see Malfoy in his Quidditch gear. No wait, normal clothes. No wait – not at all!

It wasn't as if I would be even looking at Malfoy anyway unless we were both diving for the snitch. Maybe not even then.

These crazy thoughts were definitely not my fault. Malfoy was the one putting ideas into my head! He wrote on that tiny scrap of paper that he liked me in my Quidditch uniform! It should have been me imagining _Ginny_ wearing the Gryffindor Quidditch uniform. But it would probably be too big for Ginny. It would make her shoulders look huge and she didn't have the arm muscles to fill it out... no, it would look better on Mal– a guy. It would look much better on a guy.

"So how much did you two write for our transfiguration essay Harry?"

"Er, not much," I said, reaching gratefully into my bag to get it out. For some reason my face was burning. "A little bit less than what she asked for I think."

"Oh Merlin, was that in for today?" Ron moaned. "I forgot we even had it! I bet Malfoy didn't do his either and that's why he's not here, that scheming little toad..."

I blocked out his words as best as I could. In fact I forced myself to block out thoughts of Draco almost completely that lesson, throwing myself without restraint into the work. For the first time ever, McGonagall gave me a tight lipped smile that she usually only uses for Hermione.

Lunch was harder.

"Where do you think he is?" I asked worriedly, peering at the Slytherin table. Draco was still not there. Blaise was there, Pansy was there, Nott was there...why wasn't Draco there too?

"Hopefully somewhere very far away," muttered Ron, stuffing a roll into his mouth. The rest of his words were lost around the food.

"Yes but he should be back by now," I said feeling annoyed. How dare he just take off somewhere and then not have the decency to come back for lunch? Didn't he know that people would wonder where he was? "Do you reckon he's in the Slytherin common room? Or maybe he wanted dome fresh air. Yeah, I bet that's it. He's probably gone to sit in the Quidditch stands or something..."

I jumped a mile when Hermione's hand descended on my shoulder. "Why are you so worried about Malfoy, Harry? Aren't you pleased to have a break from him?"

"A break, yes...of course."

A break from what? Some of the things that had been happening lately had been confusing for sure but more than that they had been oddly exciting. I know it's wrong – Merlin so very wrong – but I can't help it. I _like_ it that someone wants me. Somebody wants to be with me. Somebody spent their whole evening curled up with a bottle of Fire Whiskey bemoaning the fact that I'm straight.

Is it so bad to want somebody to want you?

"Harry, where're you going?" Hermione asked, sounding surprised.

I had stood up, a vague idea forming in my mind. It was not a very good plan, not yet, but it was a start.

"I have a double free after lunch," I said, slinging my school bag over my shoulder and grabbing a roll from the table. "I'll be in the library." This lie did not feel as awful as it could have done. My real plan was that I was going to look for Draco. The library just happened to be one of my stops.

Ron called something after me but I pretended I couldn't hear him. I was busy now; I was looking for Draco Malfoy.

The hunt around the library proved quite unsuccessful as Madame Pince barred my path and began shouting at me furiously after my second circuit of the shelves. I tried to tell her repeatedly that I had not meant to knock over her precious stack of books. What a stupid place to leave books anyway! On the floor where anyone could trip over them.

Maybe Draco _had_ come to the library before me. Maybe Draco had tripped over the books too and had fallen...badly?

Tapping my chin thoughtfully with a finger, I allowed my over active imagination to go wild and fill in the blanks. The story in my head was that yes, Draco had been here. He had been looking for a place to sit and brood, which curiously enough seemed to be the windowsill that I myself happened to favour so much. But alas, on his way he had fallen ill of the waiting books that Madame Pince had placed so strategically for that very purpose.

Unable to stop himself he had fallen forwards and sent the whole lot flying. Breaking his fall with his hands, he had miraculously managed to escape unhurt but while scrambling to his feet, Madame Pince had cursed him!

Even though the story was utter bullshit I gasped, completely carried away with it. It _could_ have happened. In fact it probably _had_ happened!

I glared ferociously at Madame Pince on my way past and before I could stop myself muttered "Bitch." I thank whatever higher power there may be that she did not hear me.

If my little story held any truth (which for some reason seemed very likely) Draco would have been taken up to the hospital wing, where he would be lying immobile in one of the clinically white beds. That was where he was! I had to go and see him and see if he was alright...

Merlin, Professor Trelawney said I had no seer abilities! I was a fucking _profit_!

~O~

I went to the hospital wing, just to check.

When I arrived my eyes were drawn towards the bed that Draco had inhabited the last time I had seen him here, the time when he had hit his head in the Defence against the Dark Arts classroom and lost consciousness. My mouth turned upwards at the corners as I remembered that time. Draco had been so evasive, so flustered, so determined not to give anything away.

I knew now, of course, he had been scared I was going to confront him about the dead Harry Potter Boggart. Maybe if I had things wouldn't have turned out the way they did.

I jumped about a mile when a stern voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Mr Potter! What are you doing in my hospital wing?" Madame Pomfrey's eyes skimmed over me critically, obviously checking for wounds. It was a distinctly strange feeling being in the hospital wing with no injury to speak of. "Are you ill?"

The reason I was here suddenly withered and died on my tongue. It was stupid to ask. What motive could I give for looking? I hoped to Merlin she wouldn't ask. "I'm looking for Draco Malfoy," I told her, feeling oddly shy. My voice got quieter as I added, "Is he in?"

Quizzically, her eyes softened at once when I mentioned this. She looked sympathetic and pleased. I have no idea why.

"Mr Malfoy has not been in the infirmary since his collision with the wall on Friday," she said. Her eyes were almost _twinkling_ at me. Her look was entirely too knowing, as if she had me all figured out. "Sometimes he pops in during the evenings to get some dreamless sleep potion from me."

"Oh...alright, thanks anyway." I hadn't known Malfoy was one for sleeping potions.

"Potter!" she called softly even as I made my way to the doors. She looked somehow decided. "I think you should know that the view from the hospital wing windows is very lovely this time of year." She gave me a shadow of a wink and then returned to her office.

Its official: Madame Pomfrey has cracked. Maybe she's seen one horrific magical incident too many over the years. Maybe she's contracted some strange and little known virus. But whatever the cause the outcome is obvious: she's gone loopy.

Still slightly curious as to the wink reference, I made my way very slowly to the hospital wing windows. They were huge great things, stretching the length of one of the walls. It was indeed a good view.

The Quidditch pitch was visible in the distance as was the softly swaying Womping willow. The grounds spanned as far as I could see, Hagrid's hut and the green houses silhouettes on the perfect picture. The thing that really drew your eye though was the black lake. The sun was bouncing off the water beautifully in great arks. There were trees lining the sloping banks, leaves shaking with the wind. It was faultless.

Even though Malfoy was not in the hospital wing, it was almost worth the visit just for the view and...

...Oh. My breath caught. I understood what she had meant now, the wink particularly transparent. There was a tiny figure under one of the trees, knees drawn up to chest and school bag tossed haphazardly on the grass. The white hair made the figure's identity rather evident.

"Oh," I breathed, a smile working its way onto my face again. "There you are." I had been right before then! Malfoy really had gone outside to clear his head. Feeling suddenly bouncy again I called out a word of thanks to Madame Pomfrey's office before taking off at a run. What a smart woman she was.

My head was buzzing strangely. What would I say when I caught up to Malfoy by the lake? I had no excuse for wanting to see or speak to him, no reason at all. What was I going to do?

The great mystery of it gave me a thrill. This was the most spontaneous thing I had done in a while. What would he say to me? Would he ignore our Potions cupboard incident and brush off the lesson skiving? Would he even speak to me?

I wondered, all the while hating myself for doing so, if his hair was windswept by the chilled wind. It looked better pushed back, but with little tendrils of it falling in his eyes. I remembered when he was plastered drunk how his hair had been mussed sweetly. And did he realise quite how blond it was? It was less common blond and much more white, like crisp snow on a winter morning...

I only made it to the third floor however before someone else decided to copy my spontaneity.

"Guess who?" A voice purred as small warm hands clamped themselves over my eyes.

_Malfoy,_ my mind supplied out of the blue, a bubble of hope rising to the surface. I squashed it down immediately by reminding myself that it could not and would not be Malfoy. Malfoy was by the lake. And even if he _did_ put his hands over my eyes – which he wouldn't – the touch would not be so fragile and delicate as this but firmer, more manly.

I tried my best to feel happy rather than downright annoyed. This was an intervention of fate. But oh how I wanted fate to leave me alone for ten more minutes.

"Is it...Ginny?" I said, trying to sound cheerful. I should have been pleased. My girlfriend had her hands over my eyes. What was there not to be pleased about? "Um, what are you doing here?" The hands over my eyes fell away.

"My muggle studies lesson just got cancelled and a little bird told me that you have a free period now as well," she whispered sensuously against my neck.

"Oh, right," I said sadly. "Listen, I can't stay..."

Ginny had moved in front of me now, her arms wrapping around my neck. Even as I resolved to avoid her gaze I found myself looking right into her big mascara covered eyes. Ginny's eyes were a very deep blue and the colour reminded me a lot of the mould you find in strong cheese. It was on the tip of my tongue to say that Ginny's eyes reminded me of cheese mould before I thought of the slap Draco had received from his ex-girlfriend at breakfast. It made me rethink saying this as a compliment. I did not want a slap.

Draco's eyes were grey. Draco's eyes were with Draco by the lake. I really should go and check if Draco and his eyes were ok.

"Sorry I can't hang about Gin, I have to –"

Ginny leant in and pressed her lips straight up to mine. There was no question, no permission required, just straight in with a kiss. This, I reminded myself firmly, was fine. It was _allowed_. Ginny was my girlfriend and girlfriends were allowed to kiss you whenever they liked.

I turned my head to the side, trying to defect the lips attacking my own.

I wanted to go and find Draco. He was sitting by the lake under the tree with the split trunk, I knew his exact location. I could even see in my mind his small figure, hunched over in a defensive stance. The thought made my chest ache. I wanted to be by the lake _right now_.

It was wrong to be thinking about Draco right now. I should be thinking about Ginny. But it was excusable to be thinking about other things because...because this corridor was the same one that Draco had kissed me on! Yes, he had kissed me right here, pressed up against the wall with so many people watching.

It seemed a brave, reckless, _Gryffindor_ thing to do, looking back. I smirked as I wondered what Draco would think if he knew I'd compared him to a Gryffindor.

Ginny was not put off by my turned head, instead choosing to attack my neck. I looked breathlessly at the top of her red hair. This was making me feel guilty and unexplainably like laughing hysterically.

My girlfriend was leaving open mouthed sloppy kisses on my neck, something that should have turned me on. It simply felt weird. I can't deny that my neck is sensitive. Excluding the other obviously sensitive area, my neck was probably next in line where pleasure is concerned. Which is the only reason I let out a little gasping sound when Ginny bit me.

Obviously interpreting this gasp the wrong way, Ginny looked up. She looked both devious and determined as she stood on her tiptoes and nibbled my ear. Another person who I had noticed had nice ears was Draco. Sometimes in Potions all I could see was his ear as he was bent over taking notes...

My eyes closed in defeat. It was much too hard to resist this even if I was thinking about the wrong things. "I want you, Potter," she said silkily against my skin.

_Potter_. Somebody else was always calling me Potter but it was never normally Ginny. I found I quite liked it. It was different.

"Call me that again," I pleaded. I shouldn't have been encouraging it but...

"_Potter_."

No. _No_. I needed to leave right now. It took me a few moments to realise that Ginny was dragging me into an empty classroom just off the corridor. I tried to protest but the hand that was wrapped around my tie yanked me forwards into a wet kiss. This was not going to plan.

"N-o," I said breathlessly as Ginny's fingers began unbuttoning my school shirt. "I have to go, I have to go and f-find..."

"Who?" she whispered, unconcerned. For every button she was undoing I was trying to fasten one up, hurriedly trying to tuck my shirt back into my trousers. I was scruffy enough as it was, I didn't want to talk to Malfoy with my clothes in a state. "Who is you have to find?"

"Um...it's..." Draco. I want to see if he's alright after that horrible Potions lesson. "Nobody. It's nothing important," to _you_ at least, "it's just..."

"Good," her breath smelt strange. It was nice but...bitter. Like lemons. "Then you can stay here with me." My belt had come undone while we were talking.

"No, I really can't," I whined, jumping out the way as Ginny's hand made a move towards my only faintly interested crotch. "I have to go Gin."

Ginny's pout kept me from turning away. Or it might have been that her hands were now clenched in the folds of my shirt, holding me tightly as she walked me backwards until I hit the corner of a desk. I knew I could break her grip in a heartbeat but I didn't dare.

I tried to change the subject. "So...um, I think there's a Hogsmeade trip this weekend." Ginny was paying special homage to my ears now, her tongue darting over the lobes. I tried to concentrate on what I was saying. "Were you, er, planning on going?"

"That depends," she murmured, batting her eyelashes and trying to pin down my lips. I moved the deftly out of the way. "Are _you_ planning to go Harry?"

"Probably not," I admitted.

"Well then we can have a nice afternoon in, without anyone else to interrupt us. What a brilliant plan Harry – I knew I liked you for a reason!" she threw me a huge wink.

"Er, right," I mumbled. It was so very hard to speak coherently when Ginny was pressing the corner of a teacher's desk into a part of my anatomy where no desk should ever be pressed. "Sounds like a plan. But um, Ginny I have really have to go and –"

"You're not going anywhere Potter," she said, her fingers now hooked through my belt loops. "You're staying right here with me. You see...I know what's going on."

Every muscle in my body froze. She did? She knew that I wanted to shove her out of the way so that I could run down to the lake just to see if Malfoy was alright?

"Oh yes I know what's going on with you, Harry Potter," she murmured confidently, her body suddenly moulded to my own. "And I know you're trying to deny yourself because you think it's right but you _shouldn't_ Harry. It won't solve anything."

Yep, I was never moving ever again. I had been _ratted out_. Was this how Malfoy felt just after I pushed him away? The feeling that everyone knows your horrible little secret and that everyone is going to tease you for it... Did Malfoy ever –

"Harry_ it's alright_. I can _feel_ it."

I wanted the floor to swallow me up. No, better yet, I wanted to jump into the lake. That way the last person I would see would be...

"I'm so sorry Ginny," I muttered, feeling sick. "I'm sure it's just a phase! By tomorrow I'll have snapped out of it and –"

Ginny suddenly grabbed my face between her two hands. "But I don't. Want. You. To." She said harshly. "I want to do it Harry! I want to make love to you!"

The silence lasted for so long I was sure I had gone deaf.

Oh...my...God. This was just how my conversation with Malfoy had gone when I accused him of having the Dark Mark. We were not talking about the same bloody _things_.

"Erm...what?" I checked.

"You want me Harry, I can see it! Let yourself go for once! I know that you want to!"

This surprised me. "You do?"

"Of course I..." There was a sickening pause where Ginny's hands finally managed to break through my defences and caress the front of my jeans instead of the back. Now it was official just how painfully uninterested I really was. "You're not..." Hard. I wasn't hard.

"Sorry Gin, I have to go," I said abruptly. This was too embarrassing for words. The one person I should be the most responsive to was the one I was having a hard time (or _not_, as the case may be) getting a reaction to. The one my mind was hankering after was my enemy. Malfoy...Draco.

Merlin, this was _so_ messed up...

~O~

Even though in my mind I was already sitting at the Lake with Draco, my body still needed a few minutes to collect itself. When I managed to wrench myself away from Ginny, the first place I went was in a little alcove by the staircase, leaning heavily against the wall. I held a hand over my quickly beating heart, for it seemed I was about to go into cardiac arrest.

I should go back to Ginny. I should tell her that of course I had time to kiss her, I would _make_ time. But...I didn't really want to. And no, it had absolutely _nothing_ to do with Malfoy. Well maybe a bit. But how could I kiss her when my mind was contemplating...uh! How has this happened?

Ginny was perfect for me in every way. She was sweet, funny, good company and, most importantly, she was a _girl_. She was willing to put up with my I'm-not-ready-to-have-sex attitude and the best thing of all was that she loved me, Ginny was _in love_ with me.

Entertaining the thought of Draco Malfoy being in love with me was just ridiculous. Maybe it was true that he did like boys, but that didn't mean he felt anything more than flirtatious attraction towards me...

I tried for the next few minutes to argue it out in my head, but no matter how much I thought about it I always went back to that night, the one where I had sat, unseen, in my invisibility cloak.

I had heard him say it, I had heard him while he was drunk and upset admit that it was _only me_. Not boys in general, not his handsome roommate Blaise Zabini, but me. I was scruffy, skinny and weird and yet somehow – Merlin knows how – he ended up wanting _me_. Only me.

Uh-oh, cardiac arrest once again seems like a possibility...

I could not move for a long time.

~O~

I arrived to the Defence against the Dark Arts class early that afternoon. After walking all the way to the entrance hall and then bolting back up the seventh floor, I had decided that I was not cut out for spontaneity. I had practised in my head more than a dozen times what I would say to Malfoy when I reached the Lake, each more stupid than the last.

None of this made any God damn sense! I didn't fancy Malfoy, Merlin, I didn't even like him!

Well, alright, maybe I was starting to like him a little, but only in the _curious-to-see-what-all-the-fuss-was-about _kind of way. Watching a trio of drunken Slytherins confess how attractive you are can seriously mess up your head.

I knocked politely on the door of the classroom (I was still a good fifteen minutes early for the lesson) and poked my head in. Lupin was sitting at his desk, a pile of marking papers stacked high in front of him. At my arrival however, he stood up.

"Harry," he said warmly, putting down his quill. "I wasn't expecting to see your class for at least another quarter of an hour..." He glanced at the clock confusedly.

"Oh yes sir, I know. I've just had a very...unproductive free period." If you could call visiting the library, going up to the infirmary, getting cornered by your girlfriend, deciding to see Malfoy, deciding that you're too chicken to see Malfoy, and then wondering around the corridors lost in your thoughts for the rest of an hour 'unproductive' anyway...

"Well come in, come in," Lupin encouraged, waving me forward with a hand. "I've got another Grindilow for us to recap study this lesson. He's in a tank over there." He pointed unnecessarily at the ugly little creature suspended in green water. "By the way, I never got a chance to properly congratulate you on your excellent handling of the Boggart last lesson Harry. Wonderfully done, my boy."

I blushed and tugged at my fringe self-consciously. So much had happened since that lesson...

"Thank you sir," I said, still feeling a bit hot. "I had a good teacher." Lupin beamed at me and I found myself smiling back. "Queer, wasn't it, what happened with Malfoy's Boggart?"

I instantly regretted my choice of words. _Queer_...how much closer to the truth could you get?

Lupin chuckled and began moving the desks back into their normal positions. His last class had clearly been a practical one. "Are yes, queer indeed," he said, cottoning on to my discomfort. "I have lost count of the number of rumours I have heard about young Mr Malfoy's orientation as of late."

The thought made me feel horribly guilty. Malfoy had to have been having a tough time of it lately, what with nobody on his side except his three remaining friends. Compared to his usual high ranking status in Slytherin house, he must be completely out of his comfort zone. Totally ostracised because of _me_.

I tried to turn the conversation away from Malfoy's private life and more towards the Defence side of things. "Weird how he couldn't get rid of the Boggart though wasn't it sir?" I mused. "Everyone else was able to and has been able to since third year. What's his problem?" This question had been plaguing me since the incident. Why had Malfoy let the Boggart get so out of hand? It had showed him three consecutive fears before Lupin had stepped in.

"As I recall it, Draco missed out on that particular lesson in his third year," Lupin said, leaning against his desk, smiling. "He was ill before the class and sent to the hospital wing."

"And he never caught up?"

"I did ask him but he never expressed any wish to do so."

"Oh." I mulled this over. It seemed to me that the side of Draco who had walked out of Potions today had resided with him for many years. That was the _skiving_ side of Draco. But it made me wonder...why? He couldn't have been afraid of seeing me dead all the way back when we were thirteen. So what was it he had been so afraid of everyone seeing? Maybe I would ask him one day and find out.

"So he just...never bothered to learn?"

Lupin gave me a stern look. "Not everyone is as keen on Defence as you Harry."

I opened and closed my mouth twice before shutting it resolutely and blushing. My last words had not come out how I meant them at all. I had sounded like a conceited prat, looking down on someone else. "I wasn't trying to sound...superior or anything," I assured Lupin hurriedly. "It's just...odd. It's strange that he's never going to know how to do it."

"Ah but that's where you're wrong Harry m'boy," Lupin said confidentially. He was looking pleased about something like he was every inch the proud Defence teacher. "I plan on teaching Draco how to deal with his particular Boggart in a few extra classes. He has consented and the first of these 'catch up classes' as it were, was supposed to be scheduled tonight, after the class."

I digested this. Catch up classes for Malfoy? The thought was almost laughable. People like Ron, Neville and I were told to say behind after class for extra practise, not people like Draco Malfoy.

After a moment or two something caught up with my slow working brain.

"Was?" I asked quizzically, trying to remember if I had heard it correctly. "It _was_ scheduled for tonight? Isn't it still?"

Lupin turned around and tapped a calendar fixed to the wall. Each square had a portion of the moon inside it, ranging from the merest slither to today's huge full moon.

"It appears I misjudged the time of the month yet again," he said morosely, the glance he shot at the calendar irritated. "The lesson this evening will have to be put off. Though I daresay Mr Malfoy will be a few shades past delighted...I do not think he cared much for the idea of extra Boggart training..." He tailed off.

"So the problem is that he won't have a teacher?"

"Yes, that's why I shall have to arrange the lesson for another day."

I thought hard for a loophole without quite knowing why. "But..."

And then I said something really stupid.

Do not ask me what possessed me to say it because I have no bloody idea. The words just formed sarcastically in my head and before I could stop them, they had tumbled out of my mouth.

"I could do it." No, no, no, no! I couldn't, I really seriously couldn't!

"I'm sorry Harry?"

"I could teach him. I'm good at Defence, I've had a lot of practise getting rid of Boggarts, I'm the best in our class sir..." It sounded like I was rattling off my CV at a job interview.

But the idea just wouldn't leave me alone. Suddenly there was nothing I would rather be doing on my Monday evening that teaching Draco Malfoy the right way to hold his wand and the right way to say the spell... Yes, this was going to be _great_.

"I'm sure I could help him sir."

The look Lupin was giving me was on par with the one Madame Pomfrey had used on me earlier.

"And what would you get out of this Harry?" he asked, sounding brim full of amused curiosity. "You would be giving up your evening to teach someone you very publicly dislike, someone who's Boggart has actually known to become _you_. What incentive is there in that?"

I'll get to see Draco when he's not the one in control. I'll be the one in charge of the situation this time. I'll be the one with the full hand and he'll be the one with his cards on the table. This time he was going to have his barriers down for an hour or so and I was going to finally going to get to the bottom of this. I needed to know. Was Malfoy really interested in me or was he just a mixed up seventeen year-old wizard?

And last time he had faced a Boggart, the results had been enormous. I was curious as to what would happen this time.

"I was hoping he might give me a bit of Potions tuition in return sir," I bluffed, trying to sound convincing. "He's the best in our potions class."

Something was going on in Lupin's head that I didn't quite see until he spoke a moment later. "Ah yes, that old act...I remember when your Dad asked Lilly for Potions tuition all those years ago."

I blushed to the roots of my black hair. My Dad had been doing it properly. He had been using it to get closer to a beautiful girl, not like me who was doing it to get to know my unhappy suitor. If he even was that.

"Do you know how to teach a lesson Harry?"

I remembered the DA and smiled. "I'll improvise if I get stuck."

"And you know which cabinet the Boggart is in?"

"Yes." I was beginning to get excited now. It sounded like Lupin was actually going to let me do this! I was going to teach Draco how to do something that I not only knew how to do, I was going to be able to show off at something I was really _good_ at.

"Well I have no problem with it," said Lupin with a shrug, pushing the final desk back into place and shooting me a wry smile. "And if in ten years time you say on at Hogwarts to teach, you'll know who to thank in your obitchuary – ah, Mr Weasley, right on time."

"Am I interrupting?" Ron asked bemusedly as his face peeped around the door. A quick glance at the clock told me it was time for the lesson, the real lesson.

"Not at all, take a seat."

Ron sighed and plonked himself down in one of the back desks. Hermione and several others entered as the classroom began to fill.

I took a seat between Ron and Hermione and tried very hard not to laugh at my fortune. I was going to see Draco today after all! It didn't matter that I hadn't gone to see him by the Lake – in fact it was probably better that I hadn't. This was brilliant, this was exciting, this was fate.

"What are you looking so chipper about?" Ron asked amusedly, taking out his bent quill and crumpled up homework assignment. "And where have you been for the last hour? You weren't in the library because _we_ were in the library." He indicated Hermione and himself.

"I went up to the hospital wing," I said truthfully.

"You're not ill," said Ron shrewdly.

"Not anymore," I agreed. My heart was banging a jolly tune in my chest that seemed an awful lot like _Dra-co, Dra-co, Dra-co_...

"Will you stop bouncing around? You're wobbling the table!" Hermione snapped at me. I recognised her moody expression as one that she had done something incorrect in the time I had been gone. Sure enough Ron mouthed 'mistranslated Ancient Rune' at me shortly after. I let her cool off in icy silence.

As expected, Draco did not turn up for Defence against the Dark Arts.

I didn't care as long as he turned up for _my_ class. I would transform him into a Boggart banishing king before the night was over or so help me... I was an excellent teacher! Just because this was the one student who will have ever rutted against me in a corridor, didn't mean I wouldn't try my absolute best.

As people around me took notes on the Grindilow and Lupin pointed out its many magical properties, I managed to keep myself busy.

On a scrap of crumpled paper I wrote messily, _I sincerely promise that I will stay faithful to Ginny_.

I know, I know, it was a stupid thing to write because I would have no reason to break this promise. It's true that Malfoy isn't bad to look at – alright, whatever, he's bloody good-looking – but he's still a boy. And that is where the problem lies. He's a boy. A handsome boy – anyone with eyes can see that – but still a boy with all the wrong parts for me to even _think_ about liking.

Maybe if Malfoy were a girl... No, wait, that's wrong too.

I wrote Ginny's name time after time determinedly over the sheet of parchment, curling the tail on the 'y' and making the dot of the 'I' a little bubble. It was repetitive and mind numbing but it made me feel better. I was thinking solely of Ginny, no one trace of a thought about...the other person.

It was going well until I realised that there was no 'D' in 'Ginny' and I saw that I had begun writing Draco's name too. Before I scribbled it out, I followed the letters slowly with my index finger. Draco's name looked nice on the parchment. It was a bold name, a strong name. I traced the 'D' again with confusion.

I didn't want this. I put a thick black line through each of Draco's names that I had written (all fourteen of them).

Seeing Draco tonight would get it out of my system at last. I would see him after class and everything would go back to normal, he would go back to being a small pointy white ferret. This was going to work perfectly. Slytherins were not the only ones with agendas.

For the rest of the lesson I felt strangely contented, like I had come up with a brilliant solution to all of my problems. And all of my problems seemed to start and end with Draco Malfoy. As bloody always.

A quill jabbed me hard in the side.

"Are you coming or not?" Ron demanded.

"Ouch! What?"

"I said are you coming? Or are you just gonna sit there until our next Defence against the Dark Arts lesson?"

It was the end of the lesson. How had I not noticed that everyone had left? This proved that Malfoy was bad for me. He muddled up my thoughts and made me even slower.

"Actually no," I said hesitantly, taking extra care not to look at Ron. "I was going to stay behind to do...um...stuff."

Ron looked at me doubtfully as the lie broke up on my tongue. I was a rotten liar, which was yet another reason why I wouldn't date a Slytherin. Slytherins were supposedly good liars. I could not be in a relationship where one person knew all the secrets and the other person knew nothing. It would be too unfair. But then Malfoy had proved that he himself was not as good at keeping secrets as he would have everyone believe...

No, I'm not even _considering_ being in a relationship with Malfoy because it is not going to happen.

"What sort of stuff?" Ron asked sceptically.

"It's...er..."

"Harry's helping me with something rather important actually," Lupin chipped in seriously from the front of the room. "I'm afraid I will have to borrow him off you for an hour or so Mr Weasley. My apologies."

Ron looked surprised for a fraction of a second before nodding hastily and murmuring a word of acceptance and apology. I knew he would assume from what Lupin had said that it was something to do with the Order.

I blushed, as is my general custom when lying, and nodded along with Lupin's words. The moment Ron was gone from the room, Lupin grinned at me.

"Why don't you want him to know?" he asked.

I squirmed and tried to think of an appropriate explanation. It all made perfect sense to _me_ but trying to explain it to Lupin was difficult. I've never been that great at articulating feelings.

"Because...it's Ron?" I began uncertainly. Lupin frowned but tried to appear as if he understood. "No, no, I mean...he'd just jump to conclusions if I told him I was meeting with Malfoy. He'd think the wrong thing." That was the best I could do.

"I see," Lupin murmured. He walked back to his desk and I followed absentmindedly. "You do not want to associate yourself with Draco while there are still so many rumours circulating?"

"I guess that's part of it," I admitted embarrassedly. "But it's just so...complicated."

"Complicated how?"

I wished Sirius were there for me to explain to. I had the feeling that Sirius would have understood it, maybe better than I did. I was saved from answering by the Defence room door swinging open and banging loudly against the wall.

Malfoy threw his bag onto a random desk and loosened his tie. It seemed he hadn't noticed me yet, too busy building up his excuse.

"Sorry I'm late professor, I was in the hospital wing and I must have – oh!"

Yep, he'd noticed me. And boy had I noticed him.

I suppressed the wonderful thought that kept niggling at me which was that yes, Draco's hair was very windswept. He looked like he'd been flying around the Quidditch pitch for hours or else landed himself in a fight. I hoped he hadn't been fighting. I was the only one he was allowed to fight with.

He looked at Lupin and then at me, his cheeks turning quickly pink with embarrassment at his very loud and dramatic entrance. I pursed my lips to keep from smiling.

This was going to be _so_ much fun.

~O~

**AN:** Wow, sometimes it's nice to take a break from being in Draco's head and escape into Harry's...they're both as oblivious as the other don't you think? And because this is not how the day ends, the next chapter follows on from this with Harry's chaotic thoughts. The next chapter will be posted on Sunday so stay tuned :)

Ps. Who do you think is cuter: In-Denial-Harry or embarrassed/confused-Draco?


	10. Denial is my middle name part 2

**AN:** As promised, here is the second part of Harry's bumbling confused POV :) Read it as it was intended – light-heartedly and to be enjoyed as an ad-on to Draco's chapter. I adore Harry but he can be very stubborn and oblivious – let's see if this much close proximity with our darling Draco can help change his mind shall we? Happy reading!

~O~

**Chapter 10 – Denial is my middle name part 2**

_He looked at Lupin and then at me, his cheeks turning quickly pink with embarrassment at his very loud and dramatic entrance. I pursed my lips to keep from smiling._

_This was going to be _so_ much fun. _

"Sorry, I'll just wait outside..."

When had Malfoy ever apologised to me so earnestly before? I couldn't remember. It was hard to remember anything while all I could think was 'don't leave!'

Malfoy had already turned to run out of the room before Lupin called him back. "No, Draco, hold on a moment please..." Malfoy turned slowly around, looking like he desired nothing more than to sprint out of the room and back to the lake. My sympathy was muted by my desire to teach him Boggart banishing techniques. "Harry is here for the same reason you are."

"Harry can already repel the Boggart," Malfoy said, pressing his lips together into a very thin line. He seemed to be trying to stare Lupin down.

The classroom we were standing in could have burst into flames at that moment for all I cared. Malfoy had called me Harry. My proper name, my first name – _Harry_. This wasn't how our hostile relationship worked! A curse thrown here, a hex cast there, verbal insults traded like chocolate frog cards... Never first names. Ever.

"Yes, you are right," Lupin admitted genially as I tried to refrain from jumping up and down. "As you must have realised, Harry here is exceptionally gifted at Defence against the Dark Arts."

Draco's eyes flicked from Lupin's earnest face to mine. I felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights, unable to move. The look held so much in it, so much that I wanted to freeze time and cross examine it for hours.

From the emotions stirring restlessly behind those silver eyes, I managed to catch only a few of the more obvious ones. Acceptance, the grudging acceptance that I was better at Defence; suspicion about why he was still standing here when Lupin had confessed the lesson as good as cancelled and finally fear. Fear as to why I was here with him and Lupin, perhaps subconsciously guessing the course of the next few hours.

I blushed under his intense stare, trying to pass it off as embarrassment for Lupin's praise.

It occurred to me that Draco was not saying much. Indeed, the longer we all stood there, the more his eyes seemed to narrow and his shoulders to tense. Maybe he really did know what was going on.

I tried not to break the silence, waiting for either Lupin or Draco to go first. This was near impossible what with my mind screaming out insanity and everything. After it became obvious that Draco was waiting impatiently for one of us to go on, Lupin spoke.

"I am afraid, Draco, that you have caught me at an awkward time of the month for me to be tutoring you."

Recognition sparked in those bright grey eyes as they flicked surreptitiously towards the wall calendar. Yep, he knew. He placed his hands in his pockets and tilted his head to the side a little, clearly making the statement 'And what are you going to do about it?'

A muscle in my hand twitched.

"But I am glad to tell you that all is not lost. As I said before, Harry here is more than capable at banishing Boggarts. He has agreed to instruct you in my place, if you would consent to giving him a little extra potions tutorage in return. I hear from Professor Snape that you are a fine potions student. It seems a fair exchange, does it not?"

Oh, Lupin was good. Making it seem like the reasonable thing to do, to accept the offer without question. Like Draco would without a doubt benefit from this, more than I would. And with the careful flattery about Draco's potions skills along with it...it was damn good.

But maybe it was the sort of thing that would have worked only on someone like me, not on a Slytherin mind.

As Lupin finished speaking, Draco's mouth was slightly open, his eyes wide and incredulous. He looked around disbelievingly as though someone might leap out from behind a desk and shout "SURPRISE!"

I felt a little hurt. Did he think it a joke?

Realising it was my turn to try, I set my jaw into the most challenging position I could, trying to push the memories of our fighting days into the forefront of my mind. Yes, I knew my challenging face. "So what do you think Malfoy?" I asked, pushing mirth into my voice. "Are you up for it?"

I felt the warmth of relief flood through me when he glared at me defiantly. Who was Draco Malfoy to back away from a challenge? This was going to work, I knew it.

"If you can handle it Potter," he hissed back.

I grinned back at him. He could snap and bite and pretend to hate me as much as he wanted. I didn't have to try very hard to recall the feel of his lips on my lips, his breath mingling with my breath. In fact at the very thought of it my lips tingled pleasantly.

Well...of course not _pleasantly_. I hadn't enjoyed it or anything.

As his lips pursed and his face sank deeper into an angry glower, my smile widened. I affected him. I made him almost as annoyed and he made me confused. Fairness is a beautiful thing.

"The Boggart is in the usual trunk boys," said Lupin, closing his briefcase with an audible snap. He turned his back on Malfoy momentarily while he fetched his cloak from the hook. The devious wink he shot me almost made me groan. What was this, national wink day? Should I perhaps wink back?

I did not wink back, merely rolled my eyes and pushed the sleeves of my school shirt up to my elbows.

"Work hard and no fighting. Good luck." The door swung closed behind him. I stood staring at the dull wood for a moment, feeling the first beginnings of nerves. This was it, my big moment with Malfoy, the moment that would effectively prove all of my non-affections for him. I would be cool, calm and col–"

"What are you playing at?"

I shook myself out of my dazed state and refocused on Malfoy. His hands were resting on his hips yet he still managed to look defensive and weary. My heart thumped loudly in my chest.

"Why are you doing this?" he went on after I didn't answer his first question.

I beamed at him experimentally and almost laughed aloud at the result. Draco's hands had clenched on the desk behind him as though to stop him from falling over. I ran fingers through my hair in wonder, giddy with such unexpected power. How did Draco always make me feel so...cheery?

"Why do you think I'm doing it?" I asked curiously, taking my wand out of my belt. His eyes followed the path of my hand and remained on the wand for a few more seconds before looking at me again. "I'm helping you so that you will help me," The lie was as smooth as I could make it. "I'm useless at Potions. The Muscle Strengthening Elixir – I just don't understand it at all. This way, I benefit and you benefit too. It's a win – win situation."

It's a well known fact that the best lies are those with a little bit of truth in them. I _am_ absolutely rubbish at potions and I also have no idea what Snape was on about with the MSE potion today in class. However the reasons I wanted to teach Malfoy were selfish. I wanted to see him with his barriers down, just like when he was drunk, just like when he was talking in his sleep. Truth plus pretence equals the perfect lie.

Malfoy's appraisal lasted a second longer before his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Alright," he croaked. "Let's do this."

~O~

For the next minute and a half after this sulky acceptance, I allowed my shallow interest to take over. In other words, I stared at him. Not straight in the eyes like we're having a staring contest, but a careful bodily assessment.

Draco – no, Malfoy – has nice arms. He'd copied me in taking of his school robes and was now clad in the regulation black slacks, white shirt and house tie. I pushed aside the question of how he managed to make this boring uniform look like a fashion statement. I really should stop ogling his arms anytime soon. But they're so...tensed. Like he was waiting for me to strike him down or something.

He's shorter than me.

I wonder if height is maybe a sensitive issue. He carries it well enough, legs that are short but slender, just like the rest of him. I noticed it for the first time in the potions cupboard today but now it bounces back at me again. He's about the same height as Ginny.

And his _hair_... Calling it blond just does not do it justice. Those locks are pure white. And – from when I touched it in the common room a few days ago – incredibly soft. Hair that girls would kill for without a doubt. Merlin, if the brand of shampoo he used was known by Hermione and Ginny –

God, why do I keep thinking about Ginny? It's not guilt, it's just _not_.

"Should we get started then?"

_What?_ My mind supplied vaguely, still lost in thoughts of Malfoy's weird otherworldly hair. It was just so _white_...

"Is staring at me part of your lesson plan?" he asked irritably, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. My brain translated the body language to mean 'uncomfortable'. This was perfectly fine given that I was the dork who was gawking at him. He had every right to look uncomfortable under the circumstances.

_Snap out of it! Say something intelligent and reasonable. _

"Shut up Malfoy, I'm trying to analyse you." Yeah, I'm not so hot on intelligence or reason...

He looked affronted. Great. I had been trying to appear _less_ weird rather than more.

"Well _stop_ analysing me," he snapped, looking carefully at the blackboard over my left shoulder, and not at my face. "It makes you look creepier than usual."

Well that sure as hell killed the mood. "I don't look creepy!" I bit back.

But maybe to Malfoy, 'creepy' was a turn on? That dude has been going through so many changes recently it's hard to keep up. And how would I know what guys find sexy about other guys? I definitely don't swing that way. Maybe creepy is the height of homosexual fantasy?

...I'm so lucky I have Ginny.

"It's ok Potter, the world loves you anyway." He rolled his eyes heavenward as though stating the obvious.

I grimaced and grit my teeth in annoyance. Maybe he wouldn't find it so funny if he knew just how many shallow sleazy letters I received every week or how many marriage proposals. If he knew how many witches posted their undergarments to me, special delivery, I'm sure it would wipe the smirk off his pale face.

"The world doesn't know me though, does it?" I said with a sigh. "Not the real me." The world apparently perceived me to be the collector of lacy women's underwear and willing to marry anyone who took enough time to write a nice twelve page letter. Oh how well they knew me...

"I know you."

I looked up, surprised, but Malfoy's face was averted. The comment appeared to have slipped out and now he was giving himself a silent berating. I stared at the clenched fists in fascination.

"I guess you do don't you?" I mused, remembering how many times those closed fists had swung for me and been answered with similar blows. "No-one can get under my skin quite like you can." How very true.

The confused look Malfoy pulled was adorable, like he was trying to work out if I had just given him a compliment or not.

"And now," I said, with an air of finality, "It's time to get on with the lesson."

A brief panicky look was thrown at me. I smirked at him, letting him know loud and clear that his patchy act of nonchalance was as transparent as a pane of glass.

"You've finished your analysis?"

"Yes."

"And what did you find?" He asked challengingly. His jaw was set defiantly, as if daring me to say something stupid or immature. As if I would be able to say anything at all when his eyes were burning into me.

I didn't answer for a while, trying to get enough moisture into my mouth to be able to say _anything_. What did I think about Malfoy? Well... I had noticed, with a curiously warm feeling in my gut, that he had missed a belt loop. And that his shoes had mud splattered around the edges from where he had walked to the lake and back this afternoon. And he had a freckle on his neck about halfway up. And the way his Adam's apple was bobbing up and down as he swallowed a lot.

"A great many things." I replied. There – a good, vague answer. Let him guess at what that means.

Sure enough, no sooner had I said the words had Draco's brow furrowed in annoyance and, perhaps, disappointment.

"Whatever Potter. It's not like I care."

Yeah right! Maybe he could have fooled me into thinking he didn't care _before_ he kissed me, but now? Oh no, I was well and truly clued up. To pretend otherwise was just insulting.

"Aren't we meant to be doing something practical here?" He said waspishly, obviously misinterpreting my wry smile to be a patronising one. "Like getting rid of Boggarts? Or was this whole lesson some sort of twisted joke where we just sit here and talk to each other for another hour?"

I couldn't help my smile growing exponentially wider at these words. Until he had said it, all Boggart related thoughts had left my head. In fact, had he not interrupted me I could quite happily have stared at him the whole evening through...

"Gosh, Malfoy, I had no idea you were so eager to learn!" I watched him look at me quizzically as though wondering what horror I had in store for him. I liked that he was weary. "What was I thinking holding you up like this? You're right, we'll get straight to work!" I sprang off the desk, walking briskly to the side of the room where the trunk sat innocently.

"No, wait...uh..."

I zeroed in on the way Malfoy tugged his shirt sleeves over his hands defensively. I found myself wanting to know all of his quirks, not just the limited selection I had right now.

"Nope, you were right; we should be doing something productive." Like swopping secrets and exchanging life stories. Wait, when did I become such a girl?

Exerting my manliness *cough* seemed like a good plan right then. I walked calmly over to the trunk and began shunting it along the floor towards Malfoy. The whole thing was heavier than I thought though and by the time it was in front of Malfoy, my breath was uneven.

I straightened up and looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to draw his wand.

He shook his head a tiny amount, blond hair flopping into his eyes. "No, it's ok...you can analyse me for a bit longer if you want..."

I barely restrained from rolling my eyes.

"Ready Malfoy?" I asked slowly, trying to tell him with my eyes that he would need a wand for this. To call attention to it would be tactless. I knelt down by the trunk, my knees complaining from the hard cold floor.

I tried to distract myself from the fact that I was on the same level as his groin. I needed no more complications in my life right now. My hands were fumbling around the crease of the lid, trying to find the lock. I could have undone it with magic and stood beside Malfoy for the whole ordeal but unlocking it by hand felt more...intimate?

If I was to be intimate with Malfoy in any way it would be like this. Nothing like...that.

"Sure," he muttered. "Whatever." He still hadn't drawn his wand. _Why had he not drawn his wand?_ The only conclusion I could come to was that he wasn't ready for this at all.

"Three..." Maybe I should just tell him. It was a silly blip. He would reach into his pocket and draw it out any moment now... The worst thing that would happen was that I'd end up embarrassing him. His fingers twitched in agitation.

"Two..." I couldn't open the trunk and let him face a Boggart with a wand.

"One!" Oh crap. Crap, crap, crap.

"No don't!" Draco's eyes were closed and his nose was crinkled up in anxiety. Even though I had bigger things on my mind, I catalogued away that little nose crinkle for future assessment.

I had already tentatively pulled open the trunk, just enough to be taken seriously before something happened. With seeker-like speed Malfoy's foot had slammed the trunk closed again. It made a terrible crashing sound that made me cringe backwards.

"Christ Malfoy – you almost took my fingers off!" I griped. I know he apparently 'likes' me, but does he really have an issue with my fingers? "A little warning next time?" As if I hadn't known from the start that he would refuse. Hopefully that did not come across in my voice.

Malfoy looked like he was working himself up towards some big personal battle. Finally, after he had rocked back and forth on the spot for a moment, the words left his mouth in a rush. "Right now listen up Potter, because I'm only going to say this once...I..."

Can't defeat the Bogart? Don't know how to get rid of the Bogart? Maybe even need my help? I watched him struggle to find the words. I waited for him to admit he needed me, my stomach churning pleasantly at the thought. He _needed_ me to teach him this.

My patience eventually turned into concern when nothing seemed forthcoming. Malfoy's eyes were fixed on the rattling trunk, a bead on sweat appearing on his brow. His hand brushed it away subconsciously.

"You don't know how to do it do you?" I asked calmly. His eyes snapped back to me.

"I – of course I...well...actually...no."

His face changed as he bumbled his way through the confession. From defiance, to uncertainty and then to my favourite – sheepish acceptance. Warmth flooded my bones.

"Thought so," I said happily. I loved hearing Malfoy stammer. It was such a beautifully unexpected change to the coldly perfect Slytherin I had known. Like I had broken though the malice barrier and found myself on the other side, the side where his friends resided. I was privy to the other Draco Malfoy at long last.

The feeling that I was beginning to know him...it was unbelievable.

"I could just see it you know?" I murmured contentedly, not sure if I was talking to myself or to Draco. Maybe both. "I could tell when you were standing in front of the trunk. Your fingers were twitching and you were breathing really fast. You do this cute little thing with your nose when you get upset –"

Ok, _that_ remark was suppose to stay inside my head.

As I stopped mid sentence, horrified, Draco cracked his first true grin since we had started the lesson. Even though I wanted to hide my face somewhere or claw the blush of my cheeks, I couldn't because nothing was worth missing that smile.

"What was that about my nose?" he asked innocently. His smirk scrambled my brain.

"I – nothing...you..." Wait, I wasn't supposed to be the one stammering! That was Draco, all Draco!

"Alright, enough about my damn nose; how do I get rid of the Boggart? I'm not asking for your help, mind you. Just a point in the right direction." I clutched gratefully at the lifeline Draco had thrown me. The less we talked about his nose, the better.

I knew this was the time for teaching if ever there was one. I should be spouting off how to hold your wand correctly, how to pronounce the incantation with precision and all of that... but I was just too damn curious.

"Malfoy, if you don't mind me asking..." I breathed in deeply and let the words out on the same breath. "How come you don't know how to do this? Why didn't you do it in third year like everybody else?"

I was not going to believe Lupin's stupid story about the hospital wing. I was no Hufflepuff.

"I was ill," he confirmed, looking not at me but at his fingernails. "I was in the hospital wing during the lesson."

I didn't _need_ to know, of course. It was just unquenchable curiosity that made me disappointed with his answer. I vowed I would find out one day, when I knew him better. If I ever knew him better.

I let it go.

"Alright," I huffed. "I'll teach you from the beginning." Starting from what we had learnt in third year sounded the best route to take. I didn't care if Draco thought it childish, he was going to do it whether he liked it or not. "Close your eyes Malfoy."

"_What_?" Instead of closing, his eyes got wider.

I tried to feel calm. "Close your eyes _please_."

He blinked at me defiantly. I moaned in frustration and pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to rein in the irritation. "I'm trying to help you, you stupid git. I'm not going to jinx you – I'm in Gryffindor remember? Now close your God damn eyes."

I gave a short sigh of aggravation then let my hand drop and opened my own eyes, probably to apologise for the rudeness. Except I didn't have to for when I glanced again at Malfoy, his eyes had fallen peacefully closed. Odd, that insults soothed him. Or maybe it was just my insults? ...that was still weird.

"Good," I said, still feeling a bit confused. "Now try to relax."

As I had expected, he tensed up even more. I rolled my eyes and moved closer to him. What was I going to have to do, give him a back massage? The humour that should have come with this idea was missing. In its place was...desire. I snuffed it out quickly. I stuffed my hands into my pockets so I wouldn't be at all tempted to touch him.

I exhaled in annoyance. The sound made Malfoy jump, he had obviously not been expecting it. I had not realised how close I had moved to him. My hands flexed in my pockets as though trying to reach out for something...

He was still so tense.

"You're not doing it Malfoy."

"Shut up Potter."

"I'm trying to teach you something but you're not letting me. Do you want to be scared of a Boggart for your whole life? Do you?"

It was an empty threat of course. I would teach him regardless of whether he wanted to learn, even if it meant locking the door and handcuffing him to a desk. As I stared at the closed eyes of the boy who liked me, the idea didn't seem too bad...

His shoulders dropped a fraction as though he was trying to do what I said. This pleased me. Ultimatums were obviously the way to get through to Malfoy.

Before I had made a conscious decision to do so, my hands had freed themselves of my restrictive trouser pockets and laid to rest upon Draco's shoulders. The way his body jerked in surprise seemed to mimic how I was feeling myself. Since when had I decided that touching Draco was the way to go?

After the initial jump of shock however, Malfoy's shoulders slumped under my hands, like I had jinxed his bones to jelly. I gripped his robes happily and murmured "Good." I didn't care if the smile leaked into my voice. Things were going better now.

"Relax Malfoy..." I breathed. My thumbs moved in tentative circled down his back, each movement hesitant. I had no experience with massage at all. Hermione had given me a shoulder rub after the fight with the dragon in fourth year but that had been a friend helping out a friend, purely practical movements. Nothing...sensual. Not that I _wanted_ this to be sensual at all. But Malfoy and I...well we couldn't exactly be called friends could we?

I wasn't even sure if our confusing relationships allowed for touching each others shoulders... I supposed if he turned around and hit me, that would be answer enough.

"Alright, now for the next step," I murmured softly when the need to say something became paramount. I didn't see the need to remove my hands from his shoulders. That would be pointless and a waste of time. I'd just leave them there until he shook them off...

"Think of whatever it is that scares you most in the world."

There was a long pause as I waited for his answer. He seemed to be thinking it over at least, which was a good sign. I leant closer to the back of his head, revelling in the fact he could not see me, and touched my nose gently to one of the blond strands. As though this was a trigger, Malfoy spoke.

"I'm not scared of anything Potter."

This time I really couldn't refrain from rolling my eyes. It was such a Malfoy thing to say, denying his fears. Didn't he realise that the only one stopping his progress was himself?

The annoyance bubbling through me was halted by an errant thought. It was a stupid move, one that could backfire horribly on me should it go wrong. It could also destroy the shaky truce that seemed to have formed between both Draco and myself. But... Maybe it would get through to him.

"Aren't you?" I questioned huskily. The words are whispered against the shell of Draco's ear, my breath blowing hotly over the white skin. The little trembling gasp that came from Draco made it worth it.

The shoulders under my hands were shaking minutely, like he was cold. I persisted stubbornly, through the desire to get through to him and...maybe a little selfishness. "Are you sure you're not afraid of _anything_?" I let my bottom lip nudge gently against the lobe of his ear as I said it, trying to make it seem accidental.

"_No_."

"Nothing?" I squeezed his shoulders softly, trying to convey without words that I wouldn't laugh at whatever he told me. I was stronger than that.

"No?" Progress! The refusal this time sounded questioning, like he was asking me if the answer was right. I grinned to myself. To be honest, this trying-to-get-information-out-of-Malfoy stuff was rather fun. I couldn't deny my own enjoyment.

"Think _harder_," I breathed. I squeezed his shoulders, blew warmly onto his ear and murmured huskily at the same time. My attempts were not wasted. Crumbling, as though from a great amount of pressure, Draco's head finally bowed in defeat.

"Ok...I've t-thought of something,"

_Tell me,_ I pleaded silently. The urge to know what was going on in his head was like a physical ache. I didn't press the issue though, knowing I was stretching him to the max already.

"Good," I confirm, trying hard not to ask what he'd chosen. "Now think how to make it amusing."

"Impossible," he muttered doubtfully. I moved my lips away from his ear to frown at the back of his head. Where did he inherit all this stupid pessimism from? I voiced my opinions.

"It's not impossible. Nothing is impossible."

We both fell silent, each thinking his own private thoughts. Mine are centred around the fact that so many impossible things had happened to me in my life already. Finding out I was a wizard was one thing. Finding out that it was possible for me to acquire best friends who would follow me into the worst dangers was another. Defeating Voldemort, slaying a Basilisk, become on friendly terms with Draco... No, there wasn't anything that was impossible.

"Think of a happy memory," I told him softly, speaking my words to the back of his neck. Did he realise he has a smooth blond curl at the nape of his neck? "A feeling or a place or a person...anything that you can remember being a truly positive force. Doesn't matter if it's opening presents around the Christmas tree when you were five or if it's sharing a bottle of fire whiskey with Pansy and Blaise or –"

"_Wait_."

The word stopped me as successfully as if someone had punched me in the gut. I had been caught up in my little speech, busy imagining a younger looking Draco opening presents around a huge tree, imagining the wide smile on his face...the part about Pansy and Blaise, well, that had just slipped out.

He had seemed happy to be with them both a few nights ago. The level of comfort they gave each other had been nice to watch. This was why, when listing things that could have been a happy memory, that particular voyeuristic excursion of mine had escaped.

I realised now that I had as good as told him I had been in the dorm room with them. I was _so_ dead.

"When did you start calling them that?" he asked, his tone deeply suspicious.

"Um...what?" I repeated dumbly, trying to locate an excuse – _any_ excuse – for the slip up.

He wiggled in my grip, obviously trying to free the restrictive hands still on his shoulders. I held on tightly, feeling self-preservation driving me on. If he turned around now, he would see my face, my sweating, guilty face. It's a well known fact that my emotions are easy to read. I couldn't let him see!

The second attempt to turn around I was ready for. As he turned I went with it, clinging on behind him so that all we did was turn full circle, him still in front, me still behind.

His breath was coming in little puffs, every now and then turning us around again. After four clashes of willpower which resulted in four more circles, he stopped twisting about quite so much to ask me another question.

"I asked why you just called them Pansy and Blaise instead of Parkinson and Zabini. And what was that about firewhiskey?"

_I said that because only a few days ago I snuck into your dormitory and watched you get pissed_, I thought anxiously, my fingers clenching painfully into Malfoy's robes. _After watching something so private, you all shifted in my perspective_.

"I didn't mean anything by it," I said, wanting desperately to wipe my forehead with my sleeve but not daring to let go of Draco. "Just a slip up that's all."

He shook his head a little, as though trying to clear it. "But..."

"I was just trying to get you to relax further. I thought that maybe the use of their first names would feel more...familiar to you, that's all." It was the best I could come up with. I was definitely not a skilled liar, as anyone who knew me could tell you. I was one of those people who lived by the truth. Except for situations like this, of course.

I waited on tenterhooks for him to answer. He seemed to be weighing it all up in his head, matching my excuse with the curious circumstances. I wished he would say something. The longer he waited, the more stress it brought to me.

Suddenly the waiting was over. "Ok," he said, nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders once. "Thanks for...trying to make me more relaxed."

My hands slipped off his shoulders weakly. My mouth was open in surprise but I was unable to speak. This was...not right. Draco Malfoy did not just _let things go_. He battled them out to the death, especially with me.

Taking advantage of his new freedom from my touch, Draco turned around to face me. His head was tilted to one side, inquisitive, amused...casual. It was unnerving given that I had expected him to shout at me, to demand to know the truth of what I meant. Not to except my feeble lie looking so blasé.

"Just like that?" I asked aloud, unable to quite believe it. I was off the hook?

"I trust you not to lie to me," he said, face impassive. His eyes held mine for a few seconds and then glanced away, looking embarrassed.

I wondered if he noticed how high I felt at that moment. His trust, Draco's _faith_... something I had never expected to be given. He trusted me....he _trusted_ me... It felt wonderful until reality smacked me in the face. He had told me he trusted me after I had just _lied to him_. I didn't deserve his trust, not one bit.

I would try not to lie to him ever again. A big promise to keep in exchange for the glorious gift he had given me. I would earn it.

"You trust me?" I checked, hoping it had not in fact been a joke. "Would you trust me to help you with your Boggart?"

He nodded his head infinitesimally. "That's why we're here, isn't it?"

I brought a hand up to my chin and rubbed it absently. He believed I could help him with his fears. That had to be a good thing. "Yes I suppose you're right. So let's go back to what we were doing before then shall we? Think of a happy memory."

He let out a little huff of impatience or exasperation, I couldn't let which. His eyes slid shut.

My eyes roamed over his body now that I knew he couldn't see me looking. He looked tired, the faint purple circles under his eyes harsh against his pale skin. I wondered if he had not been sleeping well. I'd had enough bad dreams of my own to be able to sympathise.

His skin looked so very fragile. There was a translucent quality to it, like it was not substantial protection against the elements. His cheekbones were set high on his attractive face, jutting out under the pale skin like they might tear it. Was he not eating well? Why was he so thin? I was sure he had never seemed so slight before.

Then again, I had never seen Draco as open and vulnerable as this without being unconscious.

His fringe flopped into his eyes every so often and he had to push it back, too refined to shake it out of his face. A few strands were tumbling down over his eyes even as I watched, blond hair falling over long lashes.

My hand rose unsteadily with the intention of pushing it back for him. I knew it was a suicide mission but as the same time...I felt strangely uncaring. This could be the pivotal point in our relationship. Just one brushing back of the hair, one tender movement towards him... My hand hovered over his face, still uncertain. The only hair I had ever touched in an affectionate way had been Ginny's. Did I want my relationship with Draco to become more than platonic?

_Yes,_ a traitorous voice inside of me answered. _You like him more than you're willing to admit_.

I reached out towards the blond stands.

"Ok, I've got it."

My hand recoiled as if burnt by a Blast Ended Skrewt. The shriek of surprise I wanted to yell was contained but the pursing on my lips, the loud noise being swallowed back down. The suddenly spoken words had caused my heart to leap in shock, my feet to take half a step backwards.

The hand that had been about to do the stupid unforgivable task was now clutched over my heart, making sure it did not burst from my chest.

He was taking about his memory. He had selected a happy memory.

I cleared my throat. "Ready...to try it out on the real thing?" I asked, trying in vain to bring my pulse rate down to an acceptable level. Touching his hair had been a very stupid idea. I was lucky he had snapped me out of it before it was too late.

"Mm-hmm," he murmured, seemingly still lost in thought. It was good his attention was elsewhere. If not he may have thought I needed to see Madame Pomfrey.

"Great!" I said loudly, trying to recapture the enthusiasm I had been feeling earlier. It came back to me very slowly. I let my hand touch Draco's arm for a few seconds – a manly clap on the back was surely alright? "I'll go let it out."

I pulled him forwards with me, my hands secure on his arms. For a few moments it felt like we were dancing. I was doing the leading and Draco was following me closely, our arms touching, our faces close... dancing to no music.

But of course we weren't dancing. If we had been I'd have stepped on his feet half a dozen times by now.

His steely grey eyes were wide with apprehension as we stared at each other. It seemed he had only just cottoned on to where we were going. "Whoa, wait, Potter!" he hissed, his steps that had been following mine, stopping. His attempt to throw me off was so feeble it surprised me a little. Was I really that much stronger than him? Or was he not really trying? "Wait just one second!"

I waited. We were in front of the trunk now anyway, in prime position. Waiting couldn't hurt. It gave me time to look into those panicked grey eyes, darting between me and the trunk. He had such beautiful eyes.

"You said you were going to teach me from the beginning! What are you doing?"

I _had_ taught him from the beginning, the same way Lupin had taught us in third year – well, minus the blowing-in-ear part. There was no more mental preparation, there was just the 'doing' part. I shuddered delicately, reminded uncomfortably of a sex talk Ginny had given me not long ago.

"I'm helping you," I said truthfully, shrugging my shoulders. I didn't mention that I was also helping myself as well. This time with Malfoy was supposed to help me figure out what I wanted, what I could handle. "I'm good at helping people."

His eyes dropped to the floor, his whole stance tense. "Right," he agrees.

I was painfully aware that I was still touching his arms. When was the last time I had held Ginny this long?

"So let me help you," I pleaded. I let one arm drop so I could cross my fingers behind my back. What would it take for him to just ask my assistance? To ask for my help?

"...Okay...yes, help." I had no idea if he was really reading my mind or just parroting back part of the question I had asked him. It didn't matter too much. My shoulders relaxed as I looked at Malfoy, his head still bowed, hands clenched at his sides.

"Alright then," I said. For some reason my voice could not make it above a whisper. This was it now. This was the time. I let my remaining hand drop slowly from his bicep, trailing down his arm until I reached the bottom instead I simply pulling back.

I crouched down by the trunk again, my fingers feeling for the lock. I found it with the ease this time around. I wasn't sure quite what to look at. Should I keep watching Draco's petrified face as he worked to keep it impassive or the trunk which was rattling again? I got the feeling he didn't want me looking at him – Oh Merlin but I just couldn't resist. Something about Draco always held my attention.

"Just so you know..." I had to offer some kind of reassurance to him. Some kind of promise, a word of security. "Once the boggart comes out, I won't leave you. I'll be right here, helping you from the sidelines."

"Right," he said, looking up at me with fire in his eyes. That fire told me I would burn a thousand times if I went back on my promise. "I believe you."

~O~

Before we had even begun, Draco began taking small steps backwards, trying to make them look as accidental as possible. I wasn't fooled but something in me clenched. I had given him my word that no harm would come to him and yet he still felt the need...

"Please Malfoy," I intone softly. "Please just try once more. I'll help you, I promise."

Curiosity made me stick my bottom lip into a pout. When Draco had done it to me, strange feelings had twisted away in my gut. Did it work in reverse? I tried to make my eyes as wide as possible too – Merlin knows I have no other assets.

"Ok," he said, like he was agreeing to be staked through the heart. The grin that wanted to split my jaw in half was struggling heartily against my failing restraint. Before he had a chance to take it back, to take the euphoria away from me, I beamed at him and said the killer word.

"Go!"

Draco's feeble "Go where?" was cut short by the fact I'd already slid the locks back and thrown the trunk open. He stuttered incoherently for a moment, his face horrified. I pressed a finger to my lips in a hushing movement and he fell silent at once like I had clapped a hand over his mouth.

We waited tensely for something to happen. When it finally did, a heartbeat later, I was taken aback.

Because it was _me_ who stepped out of the trunk. Not even a dead version of me that fell into a puddle of its own blood, but a very alive, very happy looking Harry Potter.

It was...weird. He had every freckle the same. The same glasses with the same scratches on the sides. The same lock of hair that always stuck straight up at the back. He was _me_.

But at the same time not at all me.

Some of my features were highlighted, enhanced minutely, others wiped away, making me look better than I did in reality. My skin was completely smooth except for the scar on my forehead; there were no blemishes or scratches or patches of stubble. My skin looked...glowing. Like I had been kissed by the sun or something.

Was this truly how he saw me? He thought I looked like _that_? Or was that what he wished I looked like? I was reminded of when Ron had been under the love potion and fallen for Romilda Vane. She had been completely perfect in his eyes.

Draco did not seem to register the changes between me and Boggart Harry. He was standing as still as possible, his jaw clenched, eyes narrowed. When Boggart Harry let out a peal of euphoric laughter, a little tremor passed through his body as though he was having his own mini earthquake.

I straightened out of my crouch to stand up behind the trunk. I was careful to keep far enough away from the Boggart so not to make it change, but close enough for Draco to still have me with him. Both of us were fixated on the Boggart, me especially.

I didn't understand what it was showing him. Seeing me laughing like a lunatic (the Boggart managed not to double over with mirth as I often did, but to still look ultimately cool) was not scary. This was a happy scene.

Well, that was until he gave a theatrical sigh and shouted something down into the trunk. And up came...

"...Ginny?" It was me who said that. The _real_ me, not the me that was taking Ginny's hand and twirling her about. My mouth was hanging open a little as though to get more air into my lungs. This whole thing was bizarre.

There was another change made – in reality, Ginny was about as good at dancing as I was. In other words, if we had tried a stunt like this ourselves we would both be flat on our faces.

Here however we were smooth and dreamy, Boggart Harry still wearing his expression of tremendous joy, Ginny...well, Ginny was just smiling a little, like her plot for world domination had started to take shape at last.

Boggart Harry had twirled Ginny tight to his chest, beaming at her. I frowned and crossed my arms as I noticed that this imitation-Ginny was taller than normal-Ginny. So maybe I was right before in thinking that Draco was rather sensitive about his height.

While I'm thinking about this the scene changes from one of joy to one of passion. I'm kissing Ginny. No, _he_ is kissing Ginny. The Boggart Harry is kissing Boggart Ginny with...ew, too much tongue. A hand – _my_ hand, with a scar across the knuckles – is sliding up Ginny shirt, the other stroking her hair...

"Arrggphhn..." the distressed sound made my head spin round to Draco; Draco who was standing in exactly the same place that I left him but with his hands over his eyes. A strange protective urge pulsed through me. I made my way towards him, careful to steer clear of the kissing couple. I had to reach him, had to pat him on the shoulder, remind him of the incantation...

"_Ginnnnny_..." The moaned word caused my next step to falter. I hoped to God that my voice would never sound like that again. "I l-love y-you..." The wish was not granted.

Draco's hands are still pressed over his eyes but there's no way he couldn't have heard that. He was making those moaning sounds again like he was being tortured slowly.

"You're...afraid that I'm in love with Ginny?" I asked breathlessly. I knew from the moment he kissed me that if Draco liked me, that must mean he didn't like my relationship with Ginny. But...he thought...that we were in love? _Love_?

_WE'RE NOT_, I wanted to yell him. _Really, seriously, I'm not in love with her!_ How could anyone _think_ that? Ginny and I had been going out for two months – just _two short months_ – and people already thought we were going to spend the rest of forever with each other?

I can't stop looking at Draco. His eyes keep shutting for such long lengths of time that it cannot be counted as blinking. The same piece of hair that I had wanted to brush back before is still hovering over his eyes. I slide my hands back into my pockets quickly, not trusting myself.

"Maybe," he says loosely, and I find myself pleased he hasn't lied to me. Lying always makes things harder. I tried really hard not to smile when what he was saying finally hits home. He was afraid I was in a lasting relationship. He was afraid I was in love with Ginny – unreachable. "Stop judging me will you?"

"I'm not judging you," I mutter truthfully. He can see I'm telling the truth too, if his guarded eyes are anything to go by. "I'm just..."

Excited. Intrigued. Disbelieving. Almost jumping up and down with glee. Every insight into Draco's head makes me feel like I'm going to burst with the new information. Especially about me.

Grey eyes are searching green and my brain is slowly becoming sucked into the whirlpool that is Draco. _Say something to him_, my conscience prods me. _But keep things light_.

_I wonder if he's going to Hogsmeade with anyone this weekend..._

Let's just cut that stray brainwave short before it ruins my life, yes?

"Riddikulus!" I should have seen it coming but it still makes me jump. Draco's wand arm is shaking badly as it points at the snogging couple. Though I was planning on taking him aside and talking to him before he tried again, I was pleased that the kissing Harry and Ginny were gone. Boy was _that_ awkward.

_Crack_!

No, this was more awkward. Seeing myself, dead, on the floor, blood leaking out like a spilt potion in every direction. Nasty. I'm glad my head was twisted the other way – that might have been too much.

Draco's muttering incoherently under his breath. Something that sounds a lot like, "_My fault, I did it, all my fault_..." suddenly his knees give out from under him and he's left kneeling on the floor. My eyes never leave his face though at the moment it's buried in his hands.

"Malfoy..." I murmur, trying not to startle him. I don't think he even heard me.

"R-R-Riddikulus!"

_Crack! _

I wince as the other me screams and writhes under the Cruciatus curse. It looks bloody awful – I can't believe that has actually _happened_ to me. By Draco's father no less... the thought makes me snap out of it.

"Riddic–"

"_Malfoy_."

I pull him to his feet and then hold him up as his feet try to support him. He looks numb. I consider that an easier way to do this would be to hold him under his arms, not the shoulders. Imagining the smack I might get for it however, I remain with the shoulders.

His face is pointing downwards to the floor but his shoulders are shaking under my hands and his breathing is irregular. Little huffing gasps are coming out like he's exhausted himself.

Acting from a partly unconscious decision, I allow my index finger to touch underneath his pale chin and tilt the head up. The silver eyes were surprisingly watery under my concerned scrutiny. Even as I watched, some of the moisture formed into a droplet and made its slow journey down Draco's cheek.

Even though the situation was as far from funny as it's possible to be, I cracked him a brief smile. Draco Malfoy strikes me as a person who likes to bottle up his emotions. Letting them spill over like this in front of _me_... Call me a sap but it was kind of beautiful.

I wiped the tear away with the pad of my thumb, feeling sad, nervous and euphoric. I was sad because Draco was sad. I was nervous because private people (like Malfoy) don't like sentimental people (like me) seeing them with their shields down. And Euphoric because... this was the most intimate I'd ever felt with another person. Including Ginny.

He tugged his chin out my loose grip and folded his arms across his chest. Defiant, ashamed, and defensive.

"You stopped thinking of the happy memory," I said with a shrug. "That's why it didn't work." I'm sure he knows this already, but I needed something to say.

He tilted his head up to the ceiling and I imagined him balancing an invisible object on the end of his nose. Didn't he realise that you couldn't look down your nose at people who were taller than you? His superior expression of general snootiness made up for the unimpressive height different.

"You look just like your father when you do that."

Whoa. I wasn't expecting the kicked-puppy look I received. Before I could feel bad however, the good effects of this comment kicked in. It had the instantaneous effect that Draco's head dropped, his hair fell back into his eyes and he looked nothing like Lucius at all. I was relieved. I was relieved that the boy I was teaching defence to no longer resembled the man who had chased me through the Ministry after the prophesy. That would have been...Uh.

"I don't look like him." Did he just shiver?

"No you don't, most of the time," I assured him, watching as he relaxed a little. "It's just when you do this," I tried to imitate what Draco had done, tilting my head back and glaring down my nose. From his affronted expression I didn't do it justice. "The nose-in-the-air thing. That's when you look like him."

"Whatever Potter. It doesn't matter who I look like."

It was weird how opposite we were on almost everything. I felt top of the world whenever anyone said I looked like my Dad. But then...my Dad wasn't Draco's dad is he?

I glanced over at the previously screaming Potter who had now become as still as death. "Do you want to have another go?" hopefully he realised there was little choice in this question. Either he didn't or he was just being irritating with his answer.

"No."

"Just one more try? I'll help you through it, step by step."

"You said that last time."

Ouch. That's it Malfoy, lay the guilt on real thick. It's not like I expected he would go through the Boggarts so quickly! I expected him to do one and then stop so we could talk it over. But did he? No.

"I wanted to see how you would do on your own," I whispered, almost truthfully. "I didn't mean to let you get so distressed. This time will be better I promise."

I could see clearly how much he was doubting my promises. It made me feel oddly wobbly on my feet, the idea that he might just walk out now and I wouldn't be able to stop him.

"There's not going to be a next time," he said through gritted teeth. "I've done what Lupin told me to do. I came here; I listened to what you had to say. I tried to get rid of it and I failed, alright? It's over, I'm going."

No! No no no no! He couldn't leave! We weren't finished!_ I_ wasn't finished! I floundered for something to say, anything that could make him stay a little longer. He was already picking up his bag from the table, stuffing his wand back into his pocket...

_Do something! _

"When I was younger I used to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs!"

I cringed and gave myself a little shake. A stupid, random, weird thing to say yes, but it had made him pause. His hand was on the doorknob. One turn of the wrist and he would be out into the corridor, walking away from this failed session.

He turned around slowly, like a person in a horror movie. "What?"

Praying to Merlin that this would work, I took a step towards Draco. The fact that he stayed where he was and didn't move backwards away from me was a good sign.

"I slept in a cupboard until I was ten years old and then after that I got to move into my cousin's old bedroom. I used to steal food from the fridge and store it under the loose floorboard in my room. My favourite food is treacle tart and I always eat the red sweets first from the packet. I sleep on my back and I mostly dream in black and white. I'm really afraid of Dementors and of being all alone in the world."

The last part was added hesitantly.

Draco hadn't moved the whole time I had been speaking. Now it seemed he was working up a question. A question I was ready for.

"Why are you telling me all of this?" He whispered.

I tried to smile as naturally as possible and hide the fact that those admissions had taken a great amount of personal courage. If Draco could face his worst fears in front of me then couldn't I bear a few of my own being known?

"It seems that lately everyone seems to know your secrets. Now that you know a few things about me...well, it just seems fairer."

Except that everyone had found out he was...you know..._gay_. I hadn't made an admission of that size. I just hoped the sheer number of little things would add up.

I scrounged around in my head for the things usually left untouched. Dusty secrets I rarely thought about. There were a lot to chose from.

"I used to be scared of the dark" I said, pushing the words out before I could think about it too much. "And of my cousin, Dudley. One time when we were at primary school together he duct-taped me to one of toilets. I was in there all day until the caretaker found me." that memory was unpleasant.

Draco looked confused. "What's duck tape?" he whispered, like it was some kind of sacred item. I laughed and reached out cautiously to place a hand on his elbow. I seemed to be touching him more and more but I couldn't help it. I wanted to.

"I'll tell you later," I promised. "I'll tell you everything...after you've beaten this Boggart."

His eyes widened and I bit my lip, wondering if I'd stretched my promise too far. Everything was a lot. He didn't look sceptical however. No, he looked...curious.

I took my hand off his elbow reluctantly. It was time to kick Boggart arse.

~O~

"The problem last time was that you took your mind off your happy memory. You have to think of it constantly and as hard as you can."

I'm in full teacher mode now. A little dial inside of me has flicked around to settle on '_instruct'_ and I'm determined to go through all the motions. Draco's eyes are looking at my moodily. I can tell he doesn't want to do this again but I don't really care. I'm so glad that he's stayed that I'm going to make this worthwhile. He's going to do it, I can _feel_ it.

"I _was_ thinking of the memory," he grumbled. He's twirling his wand through his fingers in a way that makes me jealous. I could never look as cool as that if I tried for a hundred years.

"Well then it's probably not powerful enough," I told him coolly. "Think of something different."

His outraged expression was almost comical. He looked like I'd asked him to kiss the giant squid. With an enormous sigh that tells me how much trouble I'm putting him to, his eyes shut lazily.

Watching Draco is...nice. I can't think of any way to describe it other than that without sounding gay. As he bumbled thought his memories trying to select a better one, his eyes darted left and right under the closed lids. It sort of reminded me of how he had looked when he slept, the restlessness of it all.

I began thinking that legilimency would be a worthwhile skill to learn while I was with Draco. Not knowing what was going on inside that blond head was starting to drive me insane.

A small smile appeared on his face, chasing away my mindless internal chatter. "Got it," he murmured. He blinked one and then focused on my face impatiently, waiting for the next stage.

"Ok." My voice came out lower than I'd ever imagined it could go and I blushed deeply, clearing my throat. I moved closer, as close to a person's body as is possible without hugging them.

I could hear his shallow breathing easily as I pressed against him. My body seemed to fit the contours of his back exactly, like we were made from the same mould. It was weird and good for sure.

"Hold your wand steady," I told him, my teacher voice softening until it was just me left. Just me and Draco. Draco whose arm was still wobbling. I took a deep breath.... and allowed my hand to curl over the back of his.

His hands were like _ice_! As smooth and enviably soft as they looked but so _cold_. I bowed my head into his shoulder and shivered. "Such cold hands," I muttered to him reproachfully.

My head was so close to his own that I could see his broad smile clearly in my peripheral vision. It made me smile in return.

"Such warm hands," he replied, and I noticed contentedly that he had stopped shaking. I wondered if he was blushing as much as me. I doubted it. No one's face could ever be as hot as mine felt at that very moment.

He smelt so wonderful. Vanilla and apples and soap. I tilted my head back so I wouldn't bury my face in his robes just to inhale it.

"When you cast the spell, let the emotion of the happy memory fill you up. Usually it's better if the memory is funny but as you said before that it didn't work for you..." he shook his head and a strand of white touched my face.

"I've already got a memory ready."

I couldn't speak. That glossy blond hair had paralysed my mouth and all vocal functions. I nodded my head instead. My hair seemed determined to return the favour to him, for a large amount of it brushed lightly over his neck.

"Riddikulus," I whispered into his ear. He leant backwards a little so that every part of my body was pressed into his back. He wasn't even looking at the Boggart. His head was turned so that it was practically resting on my shoulder. He was looking at my hair.

I realised I had probably got something questionable stuck in it. That is so _typical_ of me –

"Riddikulus!"

Without thinking about it, my hand that was still clutching Draco's flicked in the movement I would have done had I been holding a wand. A small whoosh came out of it and then...

_Crack_!

No more Boggart.

Draco twisted his head around quickly, whacking me in the face with his fringe. I found I didn't care in the slightest. In fact that smell of Draco so close was having positive effects on me in general. That warm fuzzy feeling at the tips of my fingers when I looked at him smiling...it spread right down to my toes and back up again, settling in my chest. His puzzled smile really made me feel very...

Um...proud. Nothing else.

He twisted around so that our arms were no longer touching. I felt the loss immediately. "Where did it go?" he asked.

I couldn't resist beaming at him. He looked unsteady for a moment before he smiled hesitantly back. His eyes were still flicking between my face and my damn hair. I ran a hand through it nervously, discreetly checking to see if there was anything in it. It _felt_ fine...

"You did it, Draco. I don't know what you were thinking of but you _did it_!"

His face changed from incredulous disbelief, to faintly blushing and then finally to stubbornly determined. I watched the changes in ignorance until Draco took a quick step towards me, bringing our faces closer than appropriate. My first thought was that he was going to kiss me again. He looked so happy and unwavering as he stepped up, his eyes searching out some kind of permission from me.

I didn't know how to grant it. I'm not sure I wanted to deny it.

If Draco kissed me again I would hit him. No preamble, just push him away and punch. I balled my hands into fists, waiting for him to do it. And, ok, I licked my lips in preparation, but if I was going to be kissed at all there was a right way and a wrong way to do it...right?

He didn't show any sign of doing it. He simply stood there, looking, smiling a little.

I _almost_ leaned in first. How terribly embarrassing is that? I almost leaned forwards and kissed his soft pouty lips. _Don't judge me_ alright? I was on a high from the Boggart and adrenaline makes you do strange things! At the last possible moment a mental image of Ginny saved me. Her fiery red hair lit a fire in my brain which burnt up my actions instantly.

Within a second of my resolve to move away however, Draco wrapped his arms tightly around me in what could only be described as a _hug_. I never knew that Slytherins could be cuddly...

He was squeezing me tightly and somewhat desperately, as if I were about to throw him off at any moment. I couldn't throw him off even if I wanted to. I was stunned. Had he remembered how badly our last kiss had worked out and decided to spare me? Or had it been his intention all along to have a post-Boggart hug and I had simply jumped to conclusions?

I cringed inwardly as I realised it was probably the latter.

His head was cradled against my shoulder, the perfect height for him to rest it there. His arms had worked under my own and were now tightly gripping around my back, hands clenched around fistfuls of shirt.

Snuffle noises met my ears and I thought for one panicky moment he might be crying again. It was only as a nose bumped against my neck and inhaled deeply that I realised what was going on. He was sniffing me. I wanted to laugh.

_Do I smell good?_ I almost asked but held my tongue. I didn't want the moment to be ruined. But _was_ this even 'a moment'? It seemed to be one for Draco if the sniffing and smiling was any indication. But what about for _me_?

Why not find out?

I lifted my arms slowly from my sides and wrapped them delicately around Draco's back in turn. The little shudder that ran through his body seemed contagious. I shivered too before becoming quite still.

His hands didn't seem to be able to keep quite motionless. They were flexing and relaxing on my back, scrabbling to find more purchase. As long as he didn't do anything stupid now we could stay like this for...well, not _forever_ but a while longer at least.

I rested my chin on the top of his blond head. This weird hug between us felt...strangely good. It shouldn't because I'm straight and this was Malfoy but...it did.

I grimaced when those sinfully cold hands began to slowly work up my back. _Please don't let him go any further. If he does I'll have to let go. I don't want to let go_. I was with Ginny Weasley. My beautiful girlfriend Ginny. Hugging other people was fine. Anything else was pushing it.

When roaming hands reached my shoulders I began to feel uncomfortable. When the first one touched my neck I was edgy. When in the next moment four fingers and a thumb had begun to card through my hair however, I pulled back.

I belonged to Ginny. I had to start remembering that.

As I pulled away, I looked at him meaningfully, trying to tell him with my eyes that hair touching was not acceptable. Merlin I was such a hypocrite!

"Sorry," he murmured, picking up on my mood. "Hand spasm."

I wanted to laugh so very badly. This all felt so surreal and fantastic. I bit my tongue to stop myself before I could dissolve into hysterics. My left hand floated up to his face and my index finger reached out for him.

Did he realise he had the faint outline of a lipstick drawn heart on his face? If the widening eyes and the step backwards away from my fingers meant anything then yes, he did. I curled my fingers back and lowered my hand. A hug was enough contact for one day – no need to touch his face too.

"Um...Well done today Malfoy." The hand that had almost touched his cheekbone clapped him on the arm.

"Thank you Potter." God, he sounded so..._sincere_. The achy feeling of wanting to be close was back again. I blushed rather than acknowledge it.

"So, same time this Thursday?" I made a mental note to thank Lupin profusely for letting me teach Draco. This was a lot more fun than I'd thought it would be. Very illuminating.

"Um...what?"

"Do you want to meet here at the same time in a few days?"

"You mean we have to do this _again_?"

His nose was doing the crinkling thing again! Why did that affect me so much? I wanted to go right up to him and...

...Better not to finish that line of thought.

"_Yes_, we have to do this again. Just getting rid of it once with me holding your hand and reminding you of the incantation isn't enough. You need to perfect it." I was sure he would get it soon. He was intelligent enough for sure and had determination and stubbornness enough for several people.

"And this isn't some devious plan to get us to spend more time together?" he asked cheekily. I tried not to think much on it, knowing he was only saying it lightly. He didn't know – had no way of knowing – that that was exactly what I was doing. I didn't even know why either! He was attractive sure, but I wasn't attracted _to_ him.

My silence made his smile fade a little. "I was just joking! Gees Potter, uptight much?"

"So Wednesday after last lesson?" He said seriously. I was glad he had changed the subject instead of I. He made things seem so smooth and effortless.

"Yes."

"And when do you want me to return the...um...favour?"

He owed a_ favour_? What favour? Was 'favour' perhaps code for something else, some weird homosexual slang that I knew nothing about? Was he speaking of the hug we had shared a few short moments ago? The _kiss_ he had given me a week ago? Had he leant me a quill or a book or something? What did he expect to give me? Maybe he wanted... No, _not_ that. Merlin, my mind was in the gutter far too often these days...

"What f-favour?" Damn my voice for stuttering!

A wicked smirk crossed his features and I could have sworn a pink tongue darted out across his lips. A heartbeat later he looked innocently curious. "The favour where I give you potions lessons." The 'duh' that should have been tacked on the end of this was not missed by me.

"Oh...that. Tuesday after school?"

"Can't. We have Quidditch practise."

These words jogged some memory inside of me and it was a few seconds before I remembered what it was. Our conversation rose like smoke to the forefront of my mind, Draco's shifty position just in front of the portrait hole coming back to me.

'_You don't have Quidditch practice until Tuesday!' I shouted. _

'_No, you're wrong, we have our practice today.' He said determinedly._

Oh, he was _such_ a liar! I _knew_ they had their practices on a Tuesday! It's sad but its true that I know the whole Quidditch practice schedule by heart. That'll teach him to lie to _me_.

"Oh so you _do_ have your Quidditch practises on a Tuesday after all?" I asked innocently. He grimaced and blushed a little, telling me all I needed to know. He had been caught out by _moi_.

"The timetable changed again," he said, flicking his fringe away from his eyes and looking at me condescendingly.

"I'm sure it did." I didn't care that I sounded smug. A small victory over Malfoy was still a victory and the old Harry (the one who hadn't been kissed randomly in a corridor by said nemesis) wanted to smirk.

"How about this Wednesday? I'll meet you in the library at half six."

"Done."

I took one last look at him and then swung my hands together awkwardly. I started shoving the trunk back into its corner for something to do as Draco began to pull his robes on again. I wished he wouldn't – he looked much, um, _better_ with them off.

"Don't forget to bring your Potion books Potter," he called, tucking a wayward lock of hair behind his ear. He picked up his bag and swept out of the room, more gracefully that I could ever dream of doing.

I hope he didn't see my automatic wave goodbye – how Hufflepuff of me.

When he had left the room finally and the door had swung shut behind him, I slid down the wall beside the trunk, a surge of laughter coming from my lips. Happy, disbelieving laughter. I had spent the last few hours alone with Draco Malfoy and not thrown a curse once. Maybe there was hope to be had yet.

I had two days until our next lesson and I couldn't help beaming as I thought about it. Just two more days...

I could hardly wait.

~O~

**AN:** So Harry's finally getting it that he's starting to like Draco! Hurray for small miracles! Next chapter is back to Draco again and will be posted shortly!

Now all we need to do is get that infuriating Ginny Weasley out of the way... hhmmmm... Not sure if Ginny should go in a humiliating dramatic way or just quietly rejected....what do you think? Leave a comment and have your vote!


	11. Squabbles

AN: **Thank you again for all the reviews**! However I did get one complaint about this story containing swearing. Look, I'm sorry if you find swearing offensive. But as the person who wrote this comment claims to be 12, technically you should not be reading this anyway. This story is rated as a **T** because it contains swearing and references to sex. It is absolutely your decision if you read this or not.

Ok, all the negative stuff is out of the way. :)

This chapter takes off from Draco's POV again so if you want to refresh your memory flick back through chapter 8.

I had fun writing this. Happy reading! ~O~

**Chapter 11 – Squabbles **

_There would be time later tonight for me to think about the shape and colour of Harry's eyes and the silky texture of his hair. There would be hours spent behind the curtains of my bed for me to recreate the touch of Harry's warm hand on my skin. _

_But right now I had to carry out my duties as best friend and sort out my fuming roommate. Salazar, give me strength._

~O~

It was of little surprise to me that the door to our dormitory was securely locked. I lifted and pushed on the latch twice just to be sure before sighing in defeat. We all had different ways of dealing with things I suppose. I got totally inebriated if I could, Pansy liked shopping therapy best and Blaise was one of those people who build up the hurt until he explodes at people.

This was going to be one of those times.

I studied the door and tapped it with my fingers, thinking. I _could_ always blast the damn thing open but where would that get me? Enough stinging hexes to leave me aching until next year; that's where. But there was no need to destroy the door. I was better than that.

"Blaise," I murmured to the door. "Blaise it's me. Let me in."

Nothing. Not that I had even intended it to work of course, but still...it was better that he knew I was here. There was no need to sneak up on my best friend. The scene reminded me unpleasantly of the day Harry had rejected me and I had locked myself in this very room. Blaise and I had switched roles.

Now for step 2 – whining.

"Don't leave me out here on the stairs," I moaned, banging a fist on the wood. "I look insane standing here by myself talking to a door!"

No response but I like to think that maybe it caused Blaise to stop and snigger. The thought of leaving me here all night bleating alone on the landing is surely _hilarious_...

The next stage is reassurance.

"She didn't mean it," I insisted, following the grain of the door with my fingertips. "You know Pansy. A babbling mess at the best of times but right now when she's so excited about finally getting a...gay...best friend." Pathetically I had to whisper the word 'gay' lest someone on the stairs hear me. Not that there was anyone alive who didn't know by now. "She'll be back to normal in a few days."

Alright, the last part was a teeny-tiny lie. The news that I had the hots for Harry would probably fuel Pansy for at least a month, if not more.

There was a thumping sound from within the room that I thought might have been a fist connecting with a piece of furniture. My conscience was reprimanding me firmly for breaking one of the unspoken rules in mine and Blaise's relationship. We never discussed his attraction to Pansy in the same way that we never discussed my relationship with Father. Both of us were content to keep the matters to ourselves and tactful enough not to mention them to the other.

But oh well. Unspoken rules can be broken if for the greater good of the friend. Or something to that effect...

Smiling slightly at the thought of how easy this would be, I tried to make my voice sound thoughtful. "Do you want me to talk to her for you? Would that help?" The crashing sounds that had been issuing from within the room took on a sinister silence. Trying not to let the grin seep into my voice, I carried on. "She doesn't even know you like her –"

"I _don't_ like her!"

Signs of life at last! The door had not opened nor Blaise made any indication of coming out – but at least this was progress. I imagined that he was berating himself even now for responding. I carried on, knowing that I was in the home stretch.

"Don't worry mate, I'll go and have a chat with her in the common room, tell her how you feel. How will you know until you t–"

The word 'try' didn't make it past my lips as the door was flung open. Had I not moved hastily out of the way, I'm sure there would have been a very lovely Draco-shaped hole in the door.

"I hate you," Blaise said by way of greeting. He looked tired and frustrated and supremely pissed off but I still thought I saw a gleam of thankfulness in his eyes. As if would leave him alone to mope! Who did he take me for?

"Hate you too honey," I crooned, ducking the punch aimed at my shoulder and slipping into the room. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to what they were seeing but when they did all my sympathetic feelings for Blaise left me. I turned around indignantly.

"Blaise, why did you burn _my_ bedside table?"

Blaise looked slightly remorseful as we both gazed upon the smoking set of draws.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," he said sheepishly even as I glowered at him. "I liked mine too much and plus yours was closer." When I continued to stare at the mess of charred wood in annoyance, he went on. "I took all your stuff out first of course! It's on your bed."

Sure enough, as my eyes roamed to my bed I caught sight of numerous amounts of my clothes and school books scattered over the covers. I pinched the bridge of my nose and prayed to Salazar not to let me hit Blaise.

"Um...why?"

"What do you mean 'why'?"

Deep breaths... "As in 'why are my drawers on fire?'"

"Oh that. We used up all the Fire Whiskey when you had your Potter meltdown a few days ago. This was the next best thing."

Blaise had slid from where he had been leaning against the wall down into a crouch. I recognised the defensive position at once and sighed in consternation.

"I wouldn't really have told her," I said sincerely, clearing a space on my bed and sitting down. "I know it's your secret to tell."

"I know you wouldn't have, it's just...she's just so...ahh!" He rubbed his hands over his face harshly as though trying to remove his skin. "She drives me fucking insane, Draco!"

I knew how he felt. Sometimes all I wanted to do was place Pansy under a body bind and then lock her in a cupboard. That would solve the problem of my headaches for a while.

"Pansy Parkinson is indeed a monstrous creature to behold," I agreed, nodding sagely.

"She's not even aware that I exist!" he whined, not hearing my previous words at all. "It's like we exist on separate levels or something! She thinks I'm so unsuitable for her that she won't even _consider _me..." He continued in this way for a while longer while I played the good friend card. I made all the right faces of disgust, agreement and sympathy while Blaise moaned on and on.

Somewhere during the time that Blaise began lamenting how soft and shiny Pansy's hair was, my thoughts drifted to another person with ebony locks. Harry's hair was nicer than Pansy's. Harry's hair was short enough to run your hands through but not long enough to get tangled in. It was the same colour as the night sky and as soft as spider-webs...

"And her eyes...her big dark eyes..." Harry had the most wonderful eyes; penetrating green, like a fresh leaf or a crunchy apple. They had the gorgeous dark ring going all the way around the outside too and with pupils as dark as his hair...

"I just wish she'd finally see me like I see her, you know?" he muttered, playing with the hems of his sleeves.

"One day they will," I said sadly, thinking of Harry being wrapped around Ginny Weasley. "One day they'll see us as we see them."

Some of the frown lines in Blaise's forehead smoothed out as he looked up at me. "I forgot it was you too," He said. "Well we're both in it together yeah? Right now it sucks but one day I'll be with Pans and you'll be with...Potter."

I chuckled softly at his hopeful look. "Invite me to your wedding," I laughed as I began to move my possessions off my bed. For now they could rest on the floor until I found a better place.

"What makes you think you'll need an invitation?" he asked sounding offended. "You're going to be my best man!"

Something in my chest swelled, like a balloon inflating. "Really?" Truth be told if he had said any other name to be his best man I would have throttled him. But to hear it from his lips now, said as if it were completely obvious... It was heart-warming.

I grinned. "Same for goes for you mate, when Harry and I get married."

Blaise stopped in the process of taking out his pyjamas, the sleeve of the nightshirt dangling out of the draw. He looked troubled. "Um, Draco?" he asked uneasily, scratching behind his ear in apparent discomfort. "You do know that you're getting married to _Cerise_ right? Not Potter."

The balloon inside me popped.

I turned my back on him as ice flooded my stomach. "That's what I said," I lied. "Of course I know that. Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, nothing, it's just..." It was easy to tell that Blaise was uncomfortable. Not uncomfortable with talking about getting married; we had been discussing it ever since Cerise and I began writing to each other. No, he was uncomfortable that I might _doubt_ what was to come. As if I had a choice or something. "You just seem..." he struggled for words but I still didn't turn around. Why should I make it easier for him to shoot down my dreams? "It just seems like you're pinning all your hopes on having a happy ending Draco. A wonderful life where you get to marry Potter and the Weaselette gets burned at the stake."

I chuckled but there was no real mirth behind it.

"Please," I said as sarcastically as I could manage while my throat felt like tearing. "They're not _hopes_ they're just...fantasies. Just wonderful fantasies of what I could have had."

After composing my face into a smile and chasing away any sorrow, I turned around and strode over to my friend. I placed both hands on his shoulders and tried to pretend that we were the same height by going up on my tiptoes. I could tell that the gesture was not missed by the way Blaise's downturned lips twitched at the edges.

"I know what has to happen Blaise. I'm not under any delusion that Har–Potter and I could actually _work_ together...don't be absurd. Besides, my father would Avada himself if I backed out of the engagement."

"Ok...good." He said, still sounding uncertain. "Just as long as you know that. It's fine to talk about it but you must know that none of us will ever get our happily ever afters." He laughed shortly.

"Except you, you bastard!" I said jokily, pushing him away and beginning to hunt for my toothbrush. "Don't think that we all don't know that your mum broke your engagement off years and years ago! You're a free agent!"

Oh how I envied Blaise. Free to marry anyone, _anyone_, as long as they were female. He could have Pansy, Daphne, Georgette, Rena, any of the pureblood Slytherin girls... Did he not realise how lucky he was? How much freedom he had? Oh what I wouldn't give to have my engagement broken.

"That's how it used to be," Blaise huffed, pulling his shirt over his head to reveal a smoothly tan torso underneath. "Even now Mum said she's looking into an engagement between me and an Italian girl named Greta..."

I know it's awful, completely terrible, but I couldn't help it. I looked sideways at Blaise as he routed through his drawers trying to find something or other; unclothed, toned, muscles rippling with movement. It was sort of...hypnotic, in a sense. I don't even want to _think_ about how perverted that sounds but I can't deny it...I was curious.

"See something you like?" Blaise's hands had settled on his hips in a patiently inquisitive gesture, waiting for me to say something. I couldn't speak. My brain had shut down in pure shame.

"No! Of course not! I wasn't being...not that you're not...you're quite..." I was only after my tongue had stopped trying to curl back into my head and I had shaken off the horror of being caught that I noticed that Blaise was clutching his sides not in disgust but in mirth.

"Your – ha – face!" He managed to splutter before the hilarity overwhelmed him.

I rolled my eyes and frowned. "Zabini you are a bastard," I said and meant every word of it. I had thought that I had genuinely freaked him out by ogling his muscled chest. It turns out that my dorm-mate is much more of an arsehole than I had originally thought. What a Slytherin. "I really do pity this Greta girl from Italy. She has no idea what lies in store for her in Britain."

I caught myself just before I could tilt my head up, remembering what Harry said I looked like when I stuck my nose in the air. I do _not_ look like my father.

He was still giggling. "S-stop it! A-ah, oh God!" Yes, much more of an arsehole than I had thought.

"Shut up and finish changing, you disgusting exhibitionist. And to think I came up here to cheer you up! This is your way of showing thanks? By laughing at me?"

"Oh...no, I'm sorry, you really have cheered me up. I'm just glad that you got something out of it too..." he could not keep a straight face for longer than a heartbeat before he was back on the floor.

"I think I'll leave you to cool down," I said, trying to scrape together what was left of my dignity and project it into these words. "I'll be in the bathroom."

"Enjoy your cold shower Draco!"

I slammed the door behind me.

~O~

By the time I made it back into the room, Blaise had recovered himself. He even offered me a muttered apology, undermined totally when he clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from giggling.

"Shut up," I growled, pushing him off my bed. "I'm not attracted to you."

"Are my eyes not green enough for you?" he asked sweetly, batting his lashes annoyingly. "Is my hair not scruffy enough or my clothes not baggy enough?" He dodged the pillow I threw at him. "Is it because I don't wear glasses?" His voice broke on the last word pathetically as he pretended to faint.

I scowled and wrenched the hangings closed around my bed. This was supposed to be _my_ night. My night where I happily replayed my hug with Harry over and over again until I fell asleep. Not being taunted by this dismal excuse of a pureblood, Blaise Zabini.

The curtains around my bed were pulled back enough to admit a bouncing Blaise who sprawled next to me on the sheets. Well perhaps 'next to me' is a bit of wishful thinking. It was more like 'on top of me'.

"Will you just – get – off?" I asked grumpily, trying to stuff Blaise back through the hangings the way he had come. "Leave me _alone_."

"Cheer up D!" Blaise threw himself further onto my bed, causing my legs to get crushed under his weight. "All this talk of marriage is so far away in the future! We've got years ahead of us yet! Live for the moment!"

But at the moment things sucked. Harry was straight, I was engaged, Blaise was being an arse, and the Weaselette was still alive and roaming free in the world. What could be worse?

"For someone who was supposed to be moping over Pansy, you don't half seem chipper now," I commented dryly. It did not have the desired effect at all. Blaise was supposed to pause, think about Pansy and then go back into full pout mode to leave me in _peace_. Instead he just grinned and changed the subject.

"At least Cerise isn't ugly," Blaise reasoned, nudging me in the ribs to try and work a smile out of me. It didn't work. "Your Father could have paired you with anyone but at least she's gorgeous."

"No she isn't," I said irritably. From what I remembered she had been rather plain, nothing defining in her looks at all. She possessed the sort of face that does not stick in the mind for more than a few hours. She hadn't been pretty at all had she? She had looked like any other pureblood girl – long hair, pointed chin, sharply intelligent eyes and high cheekbones.

"Are you kidding me?" Blaise chuckled bitterly. "Your dear old Dad must love you dearly to give you a babe like that!"

But she _hadn't_ been pretty! Surely I would have noticed if she was beautiful? Reaching a hand into the mess of items beside the bed I fished through all of the letters until I lighted upon the slightly heavier one. Wrenching it open I snatched at the photograph that tumbled out. Blaise crawled his way up the duvet to see it better.

Cerise Parisian blinked long lashes back at me sweetly from her photograph. I brought the photo closer to my face. She was...all wrong. Her hair was silvery blond, too much like mine for me to find it attractive. Her eyes were a soft baby blue, lit up with superiority and intelligence, but not a hint of humour. Her skin looked like it had not seen a day of sunlight in its life, smooth, unblemished, white and perfect. She looked like my _mum_.

Not the funny, ruffled, green eyed boy I craved. She was weak in comparison.

"Oh Merlin," I whispered in horror. "Oh my fucking _Merlin_!"

"What?" Blaise asked, sounding alarmed.

"I'm going to have to...to marry this girl!" I sat bolt upright in bed and tried to think straight. "Oh my Lord, it's not just Potter...it's...I think it's...guys! I don't find her attractive at all! Oh my...oh good Lord..._what has he done to me?!"_ the last words came out as an animalistic shriek.

Blaise covered his ears and asked "What has _who_ done to you?"

"Potter! He's made me into this! Fuck, I've known my entire life I was going to marry some upper-class French stranger and never had a single problem with it! But now that Potter's started hugging and smiling and talking..." I ran a hand through my hair anxiously. "He's ruined me!"

"You told Pansy you weren't shagging yet," he grinned.

"Shut up! You know what I mean! He's ruined my life not my fucking virtue!"

All this time and I had never even realised it. Harry had seemed like such a demon to start with, such a repulsive horrible thing to like. But recently, with the potions cupboard encounter and the Boggart victory hug, he had seemed more...enjoyable. Yet while I had the boy-who-lived in my arms I had failed to notice what he was doing. He was turning me not only away from girls, but also making me want boys.

"Everything will be alright," Blaise murmured soothingly even as I groaned and hissed in despair. "Nothing will change."

"Blaise, everything will change."

"You can still get married to Cerise."

"Yes I'll _have_ to. But I won't love her. I won't even _like_ her."

"What do you want to do then?"

"Perhaps I could...perhaps I could become a priest!"

"You've never read the Bible. You don't even believe in God!"

"Technicalities..." I muttered sulkily. I punched my pillow into a more comfortable shape and buried my face in it. There is something so deeply comforting about nuzzling up to a pillow. A pillow will never judge you for your orientation. A pillow will never make love to a Weaselette. Pillows are always neutral.

How had things flipped so quickly from Blaise being a sour sulking mess and me on cloud nine, to me sudden sucked into a whirlpool of despair and he doing all the comforting? It was crazy.

Everything seemed to be getting further and further away as sleep fogged up my mind. I welcomed the coming blackness gladly. My brain was hurting from our discussion. Before my eyes closed however, I heard Blaise ask one more question.

"Ok, I'll give you credit, you do know how to confuse me, Draco. What is it you really want?"

What an odd question to ask. Wasn't what I really wanted obvious? Everyone knew what it was I wanted.

"Harry," I whispered sleepily, wiggling more firmly into the duvet. "All I want is Harry."

And with that I fell asleep.

~O~

The next morning when I was lying in bed, I felt happier than I had in a long time. Most of my body was still engaged in the dream I had been having with Harry while the other annoying half tried to pull me back to consciousness. I kept my eyes closed determinedly. I was halfway between sleeping and waking. Maybe if I stayed still for long enough I could claw my way back to the happy place...

The whole night through Harry had whispered to me, sang soft songs into my ear. He had hugged me, kissed me, held me until we were both dreaming of each other. I didn't want to open my eyes.

Yes, if I concentrated hard enough, I could imagine that the sheets twisted tightly around me were Harry's encircling arms. Almost. And that the hair tickling the side of my face was not my hair but the hair of my lovers. Almost. If I just kept my eyes shut a little longer, if I just wished a little harder...

"Good morning sunshine! Blaise's bouncy morning voice penetrated my dream.

This was all the warning I got before what felt like a tub of ice cold water tipped over my face.

"Haaaa-ahhhhh!" I shrieked, fully awake. "What the _h-hell_–" My entire torso was drenched, the bed covers sticking to me unpleasantly. "W-_what_?!" When your body temperature has just plummeted about twenty degrees in one go, your sentences tend to be incoherent.

"Well a very good morning to you too!" grinned Theo who had paused in the act of emptying his school bag of yesterdays books. "How did you sleep?"

"I –" I began, feeling out of sorts. Getting awoken by cold water can do that to you.

How did I feel? I felt wet. I felt wet, cold, confused and super annoyed. When my teeth stopped chattering the first question out of my lips was going to be 'WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WAS THAT FOR?" but at the moment... I just sat there shivering and trying not to laugh hysterically. Laughing would only encourage them.

"No, wait, no need to tell us, we already know you slept _really_ well, don't we Blaise?" Blaise nodded solemnly, running a comb through his hair smoothly. "We heard all about it."

I blushed right up to the roots of my wet blond hair. Forgot the silencing charm _again_, bugger it!

"Because here I was, minding my own business when all of a sudden I begin to hear a very interesting monologue between my friend and a certain scruffy Gryffindor," Theo explained as he rummaged in his draw for two matching socks. "Imagine how surprised I was!"

"Entertained, more like," Blaise laughed, tying back his hair with a black piece of ribbon.

"Well yes, to start with," Theo admitted, ducking his head in acceptance. "But after a while it began to get a little _tedious_."

"At precisely two in the morning if you want to be picky about it," Blaise chipped in.

"My quota of romance had been filled by exactly 11:30 and yet there was just no stopping you! On and on and on and on..."

Blaise laughed loudly. "Theo and I agreed that you either needed to be body bound the entire night to stop you thrashing or that you should be hosed down at the nearest opportunity – to discourage you." He waved an airy hand at the now empty bucket as though in explanation.

"Yuck," I protested, dragging the sodden sheet off my shivering body. "Was putting up a s-silencing charm b-beyond you?"

"Of course not but we _shouldn't have to_," explained Theo easily. "Hey Draco, if you think you've got it bad, try having to deal with Daphne right now! That witch is going to punish me until the day I die, I'm sure of it."

Unable to ask without stammering, I cocked my head to the side in askance.

"I'm siding with you," he said resolutely. "And she's not. Daphne sticks to the motto of 'the friend of my enemy is also my enemy' or something like that. She did shout it at me but I can't remember properly."

"Theo's on our side, isn't that great?" Blaise enthused, clapping his hands together. "It's not just you and me any more Drake!"

"And Pansy," I muttered. I wasn't looking forward to the day one bit. Pansy, Blaise and I love each other to bits, but that doesn't mean we don't hold grudges like true Slytherin's. "Pansy's on my side too."

Blaise frowned and shrugged. Theo caught on to this quickly and so while he quizzed Blaise on his and Pansy's newest spat, I striped off my wet nightshirt and tried to find a clean white shirt.

"Shampoo shampoo shampoo..." I chanted, searching under the bed and lifting the lid of my trunk to check inside.

"Wait, Draco, what are you doing?"

"I'm going for a s-shower." I barely resisted saying 'duh!' remembering at the last moment how common and childish it sounded. I always showered in the mornings. It was part of my routine.

"Not today you're not," said Theo gleefully as he shared an amused glance with Blaise. "It's now half seven. We're already late for breakfast."

"_What_?"

"No shower. Just put your clothes on and let's go!"

I really fucking hate my friends.

~O~

Needless to say, the start of my day was truly awful.

I sprang about the room, cursing and dripping, scrabbling around for a clean shirt and pair of trousers. Blaise and Theo stood laughing at me as I tripped over a stray shoe. A few times I started laughing hysterically with them before my conscience berated me harshly. These were the devils who had not only made me _late_ but had also made me wet.

I threw whichever school books came to hand into my bag at random, hoping to Merlin they would be the right ones. I fastened the buttons of my shirt up wrongly twice before I gave in. I hate being late for things. It makes me edgy.

"Next time I'm annoying you in the middle of the night Theo, just prod me or something ok? Nothing is worth _this_!"

"Roger that, Draco."

"Who's Roger?" I asked distractedly. What I really wanted to know was where the bloody hell was my tie?

"It's a muggle term," he explained airily, examining his fingernails. "It means 'I understand'."

"A _muggle_ –" Blaise started before I barged my way past him. "Draco, where are you going? You're not dressed!"

"Yes, thank you genius," I hissed, grabbing the towel that used to belong in my bedside table up from the floor. "I'm going for a shower. You two might have been up nice and early to primp yourselves but _some_ of us –"

"Draco it's already seven forty!" Blaise groaned. The look he exchanged with Theo made me scowl harder. It was exasperated. "Class starts at eight!"

"Well it will be a quick shower."

"With you there _are_ no quick showers," Blaise said sternly. Theo laughed and nodded his complete acceptance. I ignored both of them.

"Listen I don't have time to argue with you alright?"

"But there's no hot –"

"No time!" I insisted. I darted past both of them and into the separate shower room across the landing. The room was as cold as only the dungeons can be, with a terrible bite about the air. Reluctantly and as quickly as possible I pulled off the few items of clothing I had managed to put on. The air felt like needles on my pale flesh.

Shuddering badly I stuck my head under one of the sprays and twisted the knobs. A jet of water so cold it could have come from an icy spring, hit me right on the top of my head.

My muted scream of discomfort was swallowed hastily. Resisting the urge (the damn _need_) to run for my towel, I reached a shivering hand out, empting some shampoo onto my hand.

Waking me up late? Drenching me as a wake-up call? Using up all the hot water? Oh it was so on.

"Nobody messes with me," I shivered to myself as the bubbles from my hair ran down my shoulders. I kept up my angry and revengeful pretence until I realised that there was nobody else in the room with me. Upon realising this I felt it was safe to react appropriately. I leapt out of the icy water.

Though it turns out I'm not very good at leaping. My foot landed on a slippery part of the soaked bathroom floor and I went tumbling inelegantly after it. Smacking my head against the side of the sink, for a moment I simply lay on the cold tile floor.

The whole world seemed to be swimming, like I was incredibly drunk. How unbelievably inconsiderate of the world, to start swinging about so! My head was stinging too where it had connected with the sink.

Turning off the shower with slight difficulty (the taps seemed to keep moving about somewhat) I began to dress. After putting my trousers on back to front twice, I began to think that maybe something was afoot. I was usually an excellent dresser! I had impeccable taste and brilliant hand-eye coordination.

I nearly broke my neck coming down the dormitory stairs. Good thing that little third year kid was there to break my fall. I strode out of the portrait hole with as much dignity as I could without falling over. Tuesdays were always very strange.

I marched into the great hall and eyed the four house tables. If only the Slytherin table would just stay still long enough for me to reach it...

Somebody abruptly took hold of my elbow and dragged me unceremoniously to a seat. The hand was firmly insistent and when I stumbled once or twice I was righted instantly. When my backside hit a chair, I jumped. Damn chairs moving about!

"Have you been fighting?" Pansy demanded immediately.

I started to shake my head, 'no', but the Great Hall started swaying like a ship on a stormy sea and so I stopped. "No I have not been fighting."

"Have you been attacked? Oh my Merlin was it that homophobic Weasel boy? Stay right here D, I'll be back in a moment –"

I yanked her back down to her seat. "No! Gosh Pans, would I let a Weasley get within five feet of me? No I haven't been attacked. Why would you think I had?" Did I look that badly ruffled?

Theo and Blaise were sitting opposite me both looking totally incredulous.

"Draco we only left you, what," Theo checked his watch disbelievingly, "seven minutes ago! How did you end up like _this_?"

"Like what?" I said impatiently. Pansy had moved closer to me along the bench and had begun unbuttoning my shirt with nimble fingers. "Hey, no, stop it! Get off!" I tried to shuffle away down the bench but she moved with me, her hands tight on my lapels.

"Shh! Draco I'm helping, now let go!" How was undressing me helping?

My whole shirt was open now, the white cloth exposing even whiter skin. I saw Marcus Flint, my seventh year quidditch captain, sneer at me and say something to his neighbour that sounded a lot like "poof!" Before I even had a chance to complain, Pansy was doing up all the buttons again, though this time in the right order.

"Oh," I sighed, happily dressed once again.

"Why are you all wet?" she demanded, gesturing towards my wet hair. It vaguely took route in my mind that I was creating damp patches on my robes. I had only just managed to dry off my body with a towel before getting dressed and walking down to breakfast. There was no time to sort out my hair as well!

"I had a shower this morning," I said, trying to sound extra refined. I don't think it worked based on Pansy's raised eyebrows.

"You shower every morning and you never come down looking as scruffy as this."

"Well normally I wake up at six, not twenty past bloody seven!" I shot a venomous look at Blaise who tipped his imaginary hat at me. "Perfection takes time in the morning Pans. You should know, you're a girl!"

"Are you comparing yourself with a girl Draco?" I did not dignify this with a response. "Well anyway, let me dry it for you."

"No!" There is a very good reason that I do not dry my hair with a simple drying spell. It needs time, patience, familiarity... But Pansy's wand was already pointing at my face. "Stop it, I'm telling you, let it drip-dry –"

But the damage was already done.

"Oh my Lord!" And that was all it took before Pansy was petting my hair and giggling. "It's got _curls_!"

"No it hasn't," I lied, flattening down my fringe while Pansy's fingers did the opposite. "It just has the slightest hint of a wave." Ok, it is a bit wavy but the sides are perfectly straight and everything! In fact about 90% of my hair is straight as an arrow. It's just that buggerish 10% that insists on curling upwards at the front and rippling on the top. I guess I was the same; 90% straight as a wand but an annoying 10% of me that craved Potter.

"Aw you have a baby curl right at the back!" she cooed, touching a finger to the nape of my neck. I leaned away from her annoying touches and leaned heavily on the table. Tuesdays were always trouble.

I smoothed back my fringe so it looked totally windswept. If my hair was going to have a bad day, it wasn't doing any half-measures.

"Now what did you do to your _face_?" she rebuked, touching her fingers lightly to my temple. The place she touched stung, making me wince and slap her hands away.

"Ouch," I complained meekly. "I just hit my head is all. Stop fussing Pans."

Blaise and Theo made little noises of relief and comprehension. This was not a bloody battle wound; this was a scratch and a headache.

"You're wounded; you've got a huge cut and a concussion."

This is an excellent demonstration of why Pansy can be annoying. She gets simple things wrong and then makes a huge deal out of them.

"I am not concussed!" I insisted, holding my head very still and willing the ache in my temples to go away. "I just have a slight headache. Everything is fine."

I looked over at the other house tables dazedly. If I kept my head perfectly still, everything was as good as new. Sure there seemed to be a lot of identical twins in the great hall this morning but what the hell. It _could_ happen.

After I had been staring at him for a good minute and a half, Harry looked my way. I raised a shaky hand in greeting and he returned the gesture minutely. This pleased me no end. Harry had waved to me. Maybe our Boggart practice victory hug had not only been a spur-of-the-moment thing but a taste of what was to come in the future?

My elbow slid off the table, causing me to sit up straighter and try to brush the movement off as intentional to Pansy whose eyes were still narrowed in suspicion. When I turned back to Harry it was to see him smiling gently at me. It looked... almost caring.

Harry's lips moved silently, mouthing some type of question. My eyes flicked to Weasley and Granger but they were busy in some type of argument. Was Harry talking to _me_? My hopes were confirmed when he grinned wider and repeated the silent question.

"Pansy help me!" I implored, tugging her sleeve under the table. "What's he saying? I can't lip-read to save my life!"

"Too right you can't!" she giggled, clearly remembering the wanking/Quidditch/food-fight style game of charades we had had outside the common room. I brushed off the memory in my excitement. "He's saying 'what happened to your head?'" She gave me the triumphant look as if to say 'see! It's not just me!'

Not sure if she was telling the truth or not, I looked back at Harry and gestured indistinctly to my throbbing temple. When he smiled and nodded looking curious, I relaxed. Ok, message received.

'I hit it in the shower,' I mouthed back. I prayed internally that he had the skill to figure such a message out, because as I had proved, my acting skills left a lot to be desired. Thankfully he seemed to get it as he nodded and rolled his eyes as though berating my foolishness.

My insides seemed to heat up at the exchange. This is what I wanted. What I would always want.

'How are you?' I mouthed at him, strangely excited by our secret conversation. It added a bit of thrill to the otherwise cheerless morning. His answer of 'fine' (for even _I _can decipher that) was cut short by the arrival of the post owls.

"Ooh, yay!" Pansy cheered suddenly, making me flinch. "It's witch weekly day today! Hurry up and drink your tea Draco, I'll do your tealeaves. I think the problem last time was that you left too much tea in the bottom..."

"Goodness Draco what were you thinking?" asked Blaise harshly in a passing imitation of Pansy. "Don't you want to know your bullshit prediction for the next month?" Crabbe chuckled dully.

Pansy, Theo and I gasped as one. One did _not_ just insult Pansy's bullshit voodoo crap _aloud_. It was punishable by death.

"What is wrong with you this morning?" Pansy mumbled uncertainly. "You're being really..."

"Mean?" he asked sarcastically. "Self centred? Rude? I know someone else who fits that description but it really isn't me."

"Blaise what..." Pansy's huge dark eyes were filling with tears of hurt. "What have I done?"

"Nothing," he snapped, his own eyes shining with hurt. "That's the problem. You never do anything and you don't even realise that – never mind." And with that he slid further along the bench away from us, to sit by Crabbe and Goyle.

"You'll have to excuse Blaise," I said gravely, privately thinking that I was going to have a jolly good talking to him once we were alone. "I'm afraid it's that time of the month."

Pansy wiped her eyes and giggled feebly. Theo reached across the table and squeezed her hand with a friendly smile. "He's just being a moody bitch Pans. Ignore him completely."

"I might just do that," she sniffed, dragging a sleeve across her face. Even so, when the owl carrying Pansy's witch weekly arrived she glanced over the front page mournfully then slipped the issue into her bag. Theo and I exchanged furious looks. Friend or not, nobody makes Pansy upset. Blaise was really in for it.

I gulped my tea, scolding my tongue badly. I then stared hard at the tealeaves at the bottom. Perhaps that extra large lump looked slightly like a squashed heart? And that smaller bit looked like a flame?

"Well I think these are definitely saying that I'm going to get lucky later today," I predicted randomly, lowering my voice to Pansy's mystical whisper. "Yes I can definitely sense a kiss on the horizon!" I looked pointedly in Harry's direction and Theo laughed.

"You should be so lucky," Pansy muttered. Her eyes kept darting across to Blaise who was now talking animatedly with Daphne Greengrass. "I doubt it says that."

"What does it say then?" I challenged. Pansy had to read my tealeaves; it was our Witch Weekly day tradition. It couldn't be broken just because Blaise was in a bad mood with her.

When she made no move to take it, Theo took the cup instead. "I think it says..." he looked deep into the soggy brown gunk. "That today you will begin to question the sanity of your friends."

I could give him that. "Likely," I murmured. "Come on Pans, your turn."

"I don't _want_ to," she said loudly, pushing the cup away from her. "It's all rubbish anyway!" Yep her eyes definitely flickered to Blaise. He did not even look up at her loud exclamation though I'm sure he heard it.

Under the table I took Pansy's hand.

"Looks like you've got mail too Draco," said Theo, clearly trying to change the subject. Sure enough, a sleek grey owl was winging its way toward me through the hailstorm of birds. "Who's the bird form?" he asked. But after I had recognised the distinctive colour of the envelope, I had no eyes for the bird.

"Oh bloody hell," I griped. "This is sure to perk you up Pans." Her miserable face blinked up at me doubtfully. "Someone has sent me a howler."

The scarlet envelope swooped closer and closer, smoking ominously even before it was dropped on the table. The bird carrying it soared off before I had a chance to get a proper to look. Instead my attention was focused on the red letter in front of me. The corners had started to curl.

"Run for it!" Theo advised fervently. "Take it into the entrance hall!"

But that would look the height of cowardice, to run away with a steaming howler in my hands. Besides, even if I made it into the entrance hall in time (which by the looks of things, I wouldn't) it would still be audible to everyone eating. In other words, I was screwed.

People from along our table and on neighbouring tables had begun to nudge each other now, pointing out the red letter of shame upon the Slytherin tabletop. I screwed up my remaining courage – what little of if there was left now – and torn open the letter.

"_Draco Malfoy_!"

The whole hall went deadly quiet as everyone waited with baited breath to hear my punishment. I think I was the only person in the whole room to sigh with relief. Only one person would ever in million years pronounce my name like that. Like it was spelt _Mal-foi._

As the howler began screaming away in French, the students around me let out little huffs of disappointment. They did not teach languages here at Hogwarts. The only people likely to understand were those taught a second language by their parents. That meant only the Purebloods.

"..._Have only just been told by my father about your recent activities while at school_..." I flinched at the crisply spoken French. The disapproving tone sounded exactly like my Mother. All around the hall people were whispering excitedly, the few people who knew a bit of French translating for eager friends.

"_You_ _have shamed not only me and my parents but also your own family_..."

"Ouch," I whispered to Pansy, whose sulky expression had been transformed at the delivery of the howler. "That one was low..." I had not yet spared a thought for Mother or Father. The very idea of their shocked faces made me feel sick inside.

"_You are a disgrace to your Pureblood title! Fraternising with other boy's in corridors if the rumours are to be true_!"

"You know, I actually feel a little bit sorry for her," Pansy whispered slyly before I shushed her. Not that there was any need to shush anyone with the howler nearly bursting my eardrums with every word. "She's just an unfortunate girl who got engaged to the only Pureblood poof in England."

"_Pansy_!"

"..._And not even some nameless nobody boy either – you would have to pick Harry Potter! He is the defeater of the Dark Lord, Draco, show some respect_..."

I had double the amount of respect for Harry than I did for her. Nevertheless I slumped down in my seat in disgrace. I _had_ forced my lips on Harry's, it was true. But if our cordial lesson last night or our recent breakfast lip-reading greetings were any indication, I was well on my way to forgiveness.

"_While being prepared to wed you, bare your child, ignore your future mistresses and such, I cannot permit such homosexual tendencies to be associated with my family! Though under no delusion that you are by any means in love with me, some level of devotion is needed_..."

I slid even further down my seat so that only the top of my head was visible over the tabletop. I couldn't give up Harry! Harry wasn't even mine to give up!

"_However I am pleased to tell you that my boyfriend, Jacque Rocher, has recently proposed to me_..." the angry tone of the letter quietened dramatically, so that it was now only my fiancé's normal speaking voice being echoed around the Great Hall. "_And I think you will be glad to hear that my father is greatly considering breaking our marriage in favour of Jacque._" Her voice could now even be labelled as _soft_.

My heart was beating in my throat. Breaking our marriage...breaking our marriage...

"_Not everyone can live happily ever after Draco, but I hope I can. I will have Jacque now and you may be with...whichever boy you choose. My wedding is in the spring, maybe you will come?_"

"Draco, my French is a little rusty; did she just invite you to her wedding with another man?" Pansy whispered, enraptured.

"So it would seem," I breathed back. I did not want to jinx this, oh Merlin no. "Touch wood," I added as an extra precaution. Pansy and I both rapped our knuckles of the table twice.

"_Good luck with telling your parents Draco,_" the letter purred, clearly coming to an end. "_I'm sorry they found out like this. If it is pleasing to you I have a very nice Pureblood older cousin who you might like. His name is Pierre. I'll send you his address sometime_..." And with that the howler dissolved into ash.

I sat staring at the charred ash for a moment or so. It was over! All over!

"I'm so happy for you!" Pansy cheered, squeezing me into a tight hug. "It happened! You finally got what you wanted!" Yes, and what a pleasant surprise that was – I was beginning to love Tuesdays.

The breakfasters in the Great Hall had started to talk again now, whispered conversations starting afresh. The news spread as those who were skilled at languages passed on the message that Draco Malfoy's marriage agreement had been broken because his future wife had somehow found out that he liked boys. Well...it could have been worse.

I laughed and hugged Pansy back. Today was going to be a good day after all.

"Ew! You're getting blood on my shirt!" Pansy yelled, pushing me away from her. "For God's sake Draco go to the Hospital wing and get fixed!"

"That's what she said," Theo deadpanned across from us. "Congrats mate on the whole getting jilted thing. Actually, is 'congratulations' the right word to use?"

"Works for me," I shrugged.

I was free. Free to date anyone, whoever I liked, whenever I liked. I could date girls, boys, _Harry_ – and not feel the slightest trace of guilt. Hell, I could even get _married_ to Harry now!

Through all the people in the Great Hall, I sought out my favourite pair of eyes. Harry however was not looking my way yet. He was with Weasley, Finnegan, and the Weaselette, all leaning in close to Granger who seemed to be explaining something to them very slowly. No surprises there then that Granger could speak French. Not fluently, if the rate at which she was explaining was anything to go by, but well enough.

When she had finished, Harry and the others sat back in their seats. I watched Harry's face carefully. He looked...surprised, confused and...pleased? I waited until he looked my way. I held his gaze for a while, not lip-reading, just looking. He wasn't smiling and neither was I, but I fancied there was some kind of satisfied emotion passing across his face.

_Clap!_ Pansy hands smacked together right in front of my face.

Yep, I knocked the coffee pot over all over the table as I just about jumped out of my skin. I clutched at my head as the loud noise reverberated inside my skull.

"Concussion!" she conceded triumphantly, patting me on the shoulder. The ringing had not quite left my ears so I don't know quite what Blaise said to her next. What I do know is it made Pansy blush scarlet with embarrassment. "Oh like you're so much better yourself Blaise Zabini, leaving him to get into this state!"

The whirling of my eardrums had quietened enough for me to hear Blaise's response. Well, most of it. It went something like: "Are you his mother or his friend?"

Pansy's hand tightened on my shoulder and she yanked me up beside her. Before I knew it we were walking along the corridor outside the Great Hall, moving away from the sounds of breakfast.

"Um...where are we going?" I asked curiously, one hand clutched in Pansy's, the other holding my head. It felt about ready to spin off my shoulders.

"To the hospital wing of course," she replied simply, rolling her eyes as if it were obvious. "Unless you'd prefer to have me do it? From the way you screamed last time though, I'd say this is your best option."

Ah yes, and to think I had almost forgotten! The last time I had let Pansy mend a cut, she had not sped up the natural healing process like Madame Pomfrey would have done; she had simply melded the sore skin back together. It had turned out more painful than the injury in the first place.

"I'm such a good friend to you," she said brightly. There was an element of insecurity in the voice which I didn't understand. "Aren't I, Draco?"

"Yes you are," I agreed, slinging an arm around her shoulder and hugging her gently. "My first ever friend."

"But not your best friend?"

"Yes of course my best friend!"

"But that's not what you said."

"It's what I meant!"

We walked along another corridor together not speaking, both lost in our own thoughts. Though I still had an arm around her shoulder, I felt distant from her. This was a rare occurrence with Pansy of all people. We were usually as close as scales on a dragon's back.

"What's wrong?" I blurted out when I could no longer bare the silence. I felt the sigh pass through her body rather than heard it. It was weird seeing my most annoyingly bouncy friend suddenly so down. I loved Pansy so much.

Instead of answering my question she asked me another one.

"Draco, do you know what's wrong with Blaise?"

Ok, it was that. Yes, Blaise was in a bad mood. He may be outwardly sneering but inside he was beating himself over the head for every bad word he said to Pansy. I couldn't just tell Pansy that she was the route of the trouble. That would be betraying a secret that wasn't mine and while I'm undoubtedly no Gryffindor, I do have a certain amount of loyalty towards my friends.

In hind sight I definitely should have said 'no'. No, I had absolutely no idea what was wrong with Blaise. Sure she wouldn't believe me, but it would save me so much stress. Instead I tried to use as little of the truth as I could.

"It's...relationship trouble," I said as vaguely as possible.

"Blaise isn't in a relationship!"

"Ah yes but..." I tried desperately hard to think of a solution to the situation I had landed myself in. Nothing worked except a lie. Lying always worked. "He's in a relationship."

"_With whom?_" she demanded. There was unmistakable fire in her eyes as though she was burning up inside. Maybe she was. "Who is it Draco?"

The hospital wing doors were in sight! Just a few more steps, one, two, three, four...

"Well," I said, stalling for time. "The person he's seeing...wouldn't want me to tell you. They're a very private person." There! Done! Brilliant! We had made it through the hospital wing doors.

Pansy wheeled me around as soon as we were inside and pressed me up against the wall. I was sure she was only a stage away from wrapping her hands around my neck.

"Draco, friends don't keep secrets from each other. Not big secrets anyway. I need to know this. I _need_ to. Blaise is my friend too, even if he's behaving weirdly with me at the moment. Tell me D! Who is it?"

Oh God this was getting out of control. The way those fierce watery eyes were glaring at me pleadingly, I _wanted_ to give up a name. But there was no name to give up! Blaise didn't have a mystery lover to be annoyed about, he was simply annoyed with the mysterious girl he wanted for his lover. A girl who didn't want him back. A girl who was pining me to the infirmary wall at that very moment.

"It's..." I said desperately, trying to think of _any_ girls name while under Pansy's scrutiny. "It's..."

"Draco Malfoy!"

The shrill voice that usually made me wince today made my spirits lift. I was saved by the wonderful Madame Pomfrey yet again.

"Mr Malfoy what is it you are doing in my hospital wing yet again? And Miss Parkinson too!" she eyed Pansy's short black skirt with a great amount of distaste. "I discharged you not a week ago!"

I grinned heartily. I liked Madame Pomfrey second best to Snape as far as teachers went. She was one of those people that gave as good as she got. If you were nice to her, she was nice to you. During the three days and nights that I had been in the infirmary after a bad quidditch injury in the match against Ravenclaw, I had also discovered her dry sense of humour.

"I'm sorry Madam, but I have had a collision with a bathroom sink since then." The ache in my head returned painfully as if to back up my story. I pointed to my throbbing eyebrow in case she was sceptical.

"A _sink_? Tell me, how did you injure yourself while washing your hands?" As she was walking, she stirred me towards one of the beds. I sat down gratefully and Pansy pulled up a chair.

"I didn't," I tried to explain convincingly to Madame Pomfrey while she searched the medicine cabinet. "I was in the shower." The two raised eyebrows I got encouraged me on. "But the water was cold so I jumped out. And as I was jumping I slipped on the tiles, banged my head on the sink and ended up naked, wet and in pain on the floor."

Pansy and Madame Pomfrey made exactly the same noise of amused disapproval. The thought that Pansy and Madame Pomfrey had something in common made me snort with laughter myself.

"Well for someone dripping blood you seem in awfully high spirits," she deadpanned, wiping at my head with a wet facecloth.

"Oh I am," I assured her, smiling even as the sting of the facecloth burned away at the cut on my head. "I just got..." I faltered. There was no word for what had happened. When you agreed to marry someone, you got engaged. What was it called when you decided you didn't want to marry someone?

"He got dumped," Pansy said brazenly. "By howler."

"I did not get dumped!" I protested, while privately thinking that 'dumped' was exactly the word. "I simply got my arranged engagement broken this morning. It was a mutual thing."

"Ah yes," Madame Pomfrey murmured, dabbing away diligently at my head. "Arranged marriages...you're Pureblood aren't you, Mr Malfoy? Who was your pretty lady to be?"

"The Mademoiselle Cerise Parisian," I said thoughtfully. I had been so used to saying her name in dull, cheerless tones that it was now odd to do it in any other way. I would have to get used to that. "But it doesn't matter now of course. She's getting married to Jacque Rocher, her childhood sweetheart. I couldn't be happier."

"Yes, I suppose you are free to be with...whomever you'd like now." Oh how embarrassing. The way she said it...just the sly look in her eyes as she said it...she blooming _knew_ I liked her other regular customer, Harry.

"Yes, anyone," I agreed. We all knew I only wanted a very certain someone.

"Hold this," she instructed, passing over the responsibility of the soaking cloth to me. "I'll go and get the potion for you head..." She bustled away.

"Oh that is cringy," I moaned to Pansy. "Is there anyone who doesn't know yet?"

"Well..." she ignored the fact that it was a blatantly rhetorical question. "I guess Potter knows, given that you kissed him and all...but I don't think it's really sunk in yet. And if he _does_ know properly how you feel he's acting very strangely about it. Not hiding behind his girlfriend and letting the Weasel rip you to shreds like he should be... You know, I reckon he's bi."

One can only hope.

"Right, here you are Mr Malfoy, drink it down in one and don't you dare spit it back up." A pink potion cup was forced into my hand. The whole thing smelt vile. I pinched my nose and downed it.

"Ew," I managed to choke. The insides of my mouth felt like they were full of glue. The desire to spit it back out was overriding my other senses. To my deep shame, a little of the glue trickled out from the corner of my mouth and ran down my chin. A napkin was thrust at me as was a glass of water.

"Better?"

"I would have preferred the headache."

"Merlin help me nothing pleases you children! On your way both of you, the bell has already rung. You'll not miss your first lesson to sit in here. Come on, off with you..." She waved us away.

"Thank you," I said gratefully, even though my mouth was still screaming in disgust. "Thank you for the potion."

She muttered something darkly under her breath but I was also sure I saw her smile.

~O~

The first lesson of the day was charms.

Pansy and I had to jog there to make it in time for the lesson and so we both arrived out of breath.

"Why is the hospital wing so far away from the bloody charms classroom?" Pansy griped, clutching a stitch in her side. "It is _most_ inconvenient!"

"Well I'm sure the founders of the school would be delighted that you were taking such an interest in the school layout Pans," I huffed back. I had been the one who suggested that we walked there and arrived late. But no, that wasn't good enough for Miss we've-already-been-late-once-for-potions-this-week Parkinson.

"Be quiet Draco and tell me about Blaise's new girlfriend."

I was sincerely regretting that particular lie. I could have given any reason for Blaise being as grumpy as a 13 year-old girl. And I had just _had_ to invent a non-existent partner hadn't I?

"You know, at the time we had that conversation I was very badly concussed."

"So?"

"_So_ the details are a little hazy around the edges."

"Well I'm not asking for the edges, I'm just asking for a name. Just one little name Draco. Tell me her name. All I want is the name."

Right, so she could set about her murder mission. Blaise's last girlfriend had been Evie Milton, a year below us with a reputation bigger than her five foot two person. She had only started limping after Pansy had found out she had dumped Blaise. Good times...

"I said I wouldn't tell anyone Pans. Sorry."

Pansy's face fell. "He trusts you but he doesn't trust me," she said quietly. "We've been friends since we were five! He's known you for only two days longer than he's known me! He's such a...you're both so..."

"Shh, I know," I murmured randomly, hoping it fit the conversation. I was busy trying to get Pansy to sit down at her usual desk. "Sit down, sit down."

"I can't believe he hasn't told me!" she ranted. To be quite honest, I would have been disappointed in her if she had accepted the lie. The Pansy I knew and loved sniffed out the truth whatever it took. And if Blaise _did_ have a girlfriend (which, let's be honest, is _very_ unlikely), he would have told both of us. Our friendship is three sided – one does not exclude another.

"Tell me!" she hissed angrily.

Professor Flitwick walked into the room at that moment and I shushed the spitting Pansy with the pretence of wanting to pay attention. I was pleased to have something to do rather than trying to deflect angry questions. I began to copy down the title on the board.

Blaise was sitting to my right, his quill tapping on the edge of his textbook. He looked depressed and frustrated. I could tell he was busy berating himself for his behaviour to Pansy at breakfast. I approved.

Pansy quietened as the lesson went on. Soon the furious little huffing noises ceased to be replaced only with the scratching of a quill on parchment.

I tried to listen to what Flitwick was saying, truly I did. It was something to do with revealing charms, something that should have interested me. But my head was just too full of thoughts to take any new information. I was a bachelor again! The only issue now would be Mother and Father. Father was sure to kill me. I wouldn't expect anything less.

But now I also had this whole Pansy/Blaise thing to worry about. Something that I had actually _caused_. Blaise was mad at Pansy for asking me to find her a boyfriend. Pansy was mad at Blaise because I had made her believe that Blaise actually had a girlfriend. I was totally up to my eyeballs in responsibility.

And Harry...well Harry and I were alright for a change. We weren't fighting, we weren't name-calling, and we had had our first lip-reading conversation at breakfast... Everything that I thought I had pinned down had suddenly done a flip.

A piece of paper landed silently on my desk. It had been folded over once so that the words on it were hidden for sight. I scooped it up in my hand and smoothed it out.

**Did I hurt her really badly at breakfast? She's glaring daggers at me now**.

Oh Blaise. My poor misguided Blaise. We had not passed notes since fifth year.

_Yes you did upset her! _I scribbled furiously_. She didn't read my tealeaves or anything! She knows that you're mad at her. She quizzed me all the way to the hospital wing_. I refolded the parchment and slipped it back to Blaise's desk. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him open it.

Within a minute, the note had found its way back to me.

**What did she ask you?! What did you say?!**

A question I had been dreading. How to say, without incriminating myself, that I had placed both Blaise and some poor defenceless girl on Pansy's warpath?

_Ah, well, funny story actually..._ I paused to think how I could spin this tale. _You know you said a while ago that you were thinking of asking out that Hufflepuff seventh year? Lisa something?_

**To make Pansy jealous – yeah. Why are you bringing that up? You were the one who told me it was a stupid idea Draco. **

_But you were considering asking her out weren't you? Well...now you have._

**What on earth are you on about? **

_I think I have made a terrible and yet completely understandable mistake. See when Pansy asked what got your knickers in twist; I said 'relationship trouble'. Which is totally true! Your relationship with Pansy is on the rocks_.

The paper took a little while to make its way back to me. When I opened it tentatively, waiting for the long berating, I was both relieved and disappointed.

**I do not where knickers. That is libel Draco**.

Blaise was odd, very odd. Pansy and he would make an excellent couple.

_I am going to ignore that blatant lie. Anyway, she argued that you weren't in a relationship and then I, in my delirious state, confirmed that you in fact...were_.

**So now I'm in a fake relationship**?

_That is correct_.

**...With whom**?

_Any person of your choice – I gave no name. So, how angry are you on a scale of one to ten? (One being completely uncaring and ten being ready to guillotine me)_

**Well that depends on how much you're willing to help me, doesn't it Draco? **

I was beginning to feel better now. Blaise's writing did not seem as huge and loopy as it surely would be if he were furious. _What do you need help with_?

**Making the best of this situation**.

_How are you going to do that?_

**By using this 'I'm in a happy relationship' thing to make her jealous of course! **

_Oh yes...of course_. I was unenthusiastic about Blaise's plan for it seemed that I, but not he, had spotted a major loophole in it. _Blaise you do know that you're not actually in a relationship don't you? So there is no one for Pansy to be jealous of?_

Again, the paper took a long time coming back to me. I tapped my fingers impatiently on the desk.

**Yes well that's where you come in Draco**.

_You want me to set you up with someone_? I could do that! I knew lots of pretty girls who would be happy to date Blaise. My sense of worth increased somewhat.

**...Something like that**.

A hand was suddenly scrabbling for the paper in front of my quill, trying to tug it from my hands. Pansy's long pink nails were recognisable anywhere.

"Get off Pansy!" I hissed in a panic, trying to yank the page back. "It's just my Charms notes!"

"Yeah right, pull the other one," she spat.

"No really –"

"_Incendio_!" Blaise whispered.

"Ouch!" Bloody hell! The page in my hands burst into flames, falling atop my real charms notes. While I tried to shake off the sting of the heat from my fingers, my revision began to burn too. "Aguamenti!" I said hastily. In my enthusiasm too much water spewed from my wand tip, drenching my desktop.

"If they were just your Charms notes, why did Blaise burn them?" Pansy asked, her voice wobbling horribly.

I didn't have an answer. How can you lie to your almost crying friend? Luckily I didn't have to as Professor Flitwick stalked over to our desks at that moment and gave us all a detention.

~O~

Pansy did not speak to me for the rest of the day. Throughout Arithmancy she remained in stony silence even though she usually depended on me for most of the answers. Blaise too was not his usual bubbly self, seeming to be deep in thought. In other words, they were both sulking.

Well...at least I _hoped_ they were sulking. The alternative word to use would have been plotting.

I for one was feeling deeply resentful. I had singlehandedly ruined my moment of happiness at the end of my engagement. Of all the experience I have, you would think I would know better than to get involved in a Pansy and Blaise spat. You just have to let it play itself out and then pick up the pieces afterwards. Interference equals confusion and pain.

When the bell rang I was deeply relieved even as Pansy threw her books into her bag and left in high dudgeon. Theo and I made our way through the crowds together leisurely, following the ebb and flow of the mob.

I thanked the heavens for letting me have a friend like Theo. God had realised how stressful a life with my two best friends could be and had given me at least one straight forward companion to make up for it. A friend who never plotted the weirdly twisted little dramas that Pansy and Blaise had on a day-to-day basis.

"That girl looks ready to kill," Theo muttered in my ear as Pansy elbowed a Gryffindor boy out of her way. "I thought it was just Blaise who had rattled her bones - you both seemed fine earlier. What have you done since breakfast?" I always forgot that Theo didn't take Charms anymore.

He wanted to know? Merlin, if I were him I would drop the subject like a hot potato and run in the opposite direction.

"Agreed to find Pansy a boyfriend, invented a girlfriend for Blaise, told Blaise about it, burnt my fingers, drenched my charms desk and got myself a detention," I reeled off.

"Busy man," Theo agreed. "Ooh look who it isn't..." The look of smug disapproval that was being cast over my shoulder made me look round in interest, trying to see who had earn the brunt of Theo's stare.

My eyes locked target of Ginny Weasley, strutting down the corridor as if she owned it. Her hair was a particular shade of orange today that seemed to burn itself onto my retinas. She was acting more than a little slutty, my hateful feelings for her aside. She was leaning close to her fellow fifth year Gryfindork boy, laughing at something he had said. Both sets of eyes were huge with delight.

My day was already a whirlwind of chaotic things without the Weasel girl added into the fray. Why could the world not leave me alone for _one day_ to relish the ending of my engagement? Was that really so difficult? "Merlin, another blot on my perfect Tuesday. Theo, how is it that so many bad things are happening to me?"

Theo did not seem to share my bummed out feelings about the Weaselette. I was surprised to see that he looked vaguely _excited_.

"Let's do something," he pleaded, bored expression still lingering in the corners of his face. "We haven't done anything in ages Draco, just me and you. I can't even remember the last time we –"

"The time when we put itching powder into Goyle's shampoo," I reminded him, smiling in spite of myself.

"Oh God, yeah! I'd almost forgotten about that!" he let out a laugh before grabbing my arm imploringly. "Oh please Merlin, let's do that wet sponge spell you and Pans are always using! You know she'd deserve it."

Theo is full of so many good ideas. And he was right, Weaselette did deserve it. Dating the boy that I happened to like was a punishable offence starting _now_.

Without allowing myself to think about it anymore that this lest unfound guilt set in, I aimed my wand carefully at the back of her annoying red head. "_Aguamentis_ _delusionist_."

I'd never heard the witch scream before but it was quite an experience. Without wanting to compliment her or anything, it must be said that the shriek of the Weaselette is a thing to behold. The high pitched sounds filled the corridor as she hopped on the spot ridiculously, flapping her arms about like some kind of Care of Magical Creatures beast. She even bumped heads with the Gryfindork boy she'd been flirting with.

One of the many wonderful things about the wet sponge spell is that it is only an illusion of water, nothing visible. So to any person standing close by you, you just look completely insane.

Theo and I were doubled up laughing. Well, Theo was. I was just chuckling quietly to myself, trying to appear innocent and inconspicuous so as not to get the blame. It did not appear to work, for thought we were not the only people in the corridor laughing, it was on us that the Weaselette's eye was fixed. "Draco Malfoy!" She yelled.

My name has been yelled in corridors and across halls more often this term than I think it has in the whole of my Hogwarts career. So frequently had it happened that the experience was no longer as thrilling as it used to be, especially when someone like _that_ was besmirching my name.

"Yes?" I inquired politely. She was looking in disgust at Theo who was still laughing like a maniac behind me. Every time he would try and compose himself all it would take was one look at the she-Weasel and he would crack up again. He was obviously comically starved – he needed to hang around me more if he wanted something to laugh at.

She marched right up to me, red hair flying out behind her. Loath as I was to stand close to Harry's girlfriend, I did not step backwards. She drew herself up to her full height – only a few centimetres smaller than me – and moved her face close to mine.

"You are nothing more than a slimy, pointy, boyfriend-stealing, shirt-lifting, gay as a fairy, _ferret boy_ who has to resort to boys because he can't get the girls – no wonder your fiancé broke it off! Stay away from Harry or you'll regret it."

The close-up view of her freckles scared me more than the threat.

"Boyfriend-stealing?" I repeated incredulously. "Am I to take it then that you and dearest Harry are broken up?"

"No we're not!" She shouted aggressively. Her reaction gave me endless pleasure.

"And as for your comment about not being able to get any girl..." I pretended to think about it for a moment before leaning close to her ear conspiratorially. "I've had half of the girls in this school already and the other half isn't worth my time. And just so you know, Weaselette, I'm not so interested in the girls anymore. The only one I want belongs to you...for now."

I caught the fist before it could connect with my jaw. That violent little minx! I almost – so very nearly – took a swing for her in turn before my loose morals came into play. Never hit a girl...never hex a witch...never hit a girl... Oh how this ginger haired little woman was testing my resolve!

Merlin forgive me if I hit just this _one_ witch, _one_ time...

"Ginny? What's going on?" The angel's voice made my eyelids flicker and a loose smile form around my lips. Normally I hated surprises but this... this was an exception. He was always the exception.

Harry had arrived, coming to a stop next to us both. His eyes were travelling from me, to the weaselette, to where my hand was wrapped around her stupid clenched fist. She jumped in with her explanation before I could even say hello.

"Malfoy just hexed me."

"It wasn't a hex it was an innocent spell you lying little witch!" The injustice rankled. Harry was looking from her sneering face to mine and back again as though not knowing which to believe.

"A bit rich for you to be calling anyone 'little', isn't it Shorty?"

"Hey, I'm taller than you, ginger!"

I caught the second fist as that one flew up to lash out. Internally I praised myself for the sharp reflexes. All that Quidditch training was paying off.

"Harry, do something!" Ginny grounded out through gritted teeth. "He's abusing me!"

"Says the one who's trying to punch me!"

"Malfoy, Ginny, stop it!" Harry had grabbed Weasley's wrists and was dragging them behind her back. Even Theo was over his laughing fit and was gently trying to push me away from her. "You're acting like children."

"She's the one trying to hit me!"

"He drenched me!"

There was a second where Harry's eyes travelled over his furious and completely bone-dry girlfriend. "He drenched you?" he repeated dumbly. I could see the cogs working overtime in his head. "Drenched as in...wet?"

"Yes, drenched as in _wet_! But oh it wasn't _real_ water – why are you looking at me like that?" she demanded. "Why does nobody understand me?"

I was delighted when Harry rolled his eyes and looked to me instead. "You tell me."

The shiver that passed down my spine was definitely not imagined. "Theo and I were just walking innocently down the corridor," I began. Harry shook his head, an almost smile on his face. Why was the thought of me and Theo doing anything innocent amusing? I carried on. "When the Weaselette here –" I broke off when Harry's finger pressed firmly on my lips in the classic 'stop talking' gesture.

I was stunned. There was a finger on my lips.

"No name calling, remember?" Remember? Remember what? Harry and I have never discussed name calling, ever. The last time I can even remember thinking about it myself was when I made...

My hand flew up to my pocket where the Potter List was kept. Was it possible that it was gone, that someone had found it, that Harry had seen it... But no, a quick check showed it still there. I was even slightly disappointed. Harry didn't know about the Potter List. He didn't know I was trying to be better – but at least then he couldn't know how many times I had broken my resolutions.

His eyes followed my journey to my pocket and back. His expression was hard to read. "No name calling," he repeated.

We were standing too close together for the Weaselette to see exactly what we were doing. With one movement I opened my mouth and sucked in his finger. In the time it took me to swirl my tongue around the digit once Harry had gasped and pulled his hand back abruptly. He held it to his chest and looked around sharply to see if anyone had seen.

I was glad he had not yelled. He had not even wiped his fingers on his trousers the way I had expected him to. No, he was just standing there, staring at me in shock.

"Tastes like butter," I said thoughtfully, licking my lips slowly. Harry's face burned as he looked away. The feeling of triumph was strong inside me. I had been the scarlet faced one through this whole experience so far! It was his turn now.

"What does?" the Weaselette – uh, I mean _Weasley_ – said as she snaked her arms around Harry's waist. She stretched up on her tiptoes and placed a kiss under his ear. I growled under my breath.

What tasted like butter? Harry's fingers did, mysteriously.

"Toast!" said Harry instantly, still blushing furiously. He could not have looked more guilty if he tried but I guess in a way he was. And that way was that he still had not wiped my saliva off his index finger. I wondered hazily if he was going to take it back to his dormitory and use it to clone me or something. Lucky clone. "Toast tastes like butter."

Now it was the Weasel who looked annoyed. "Harry, stop being an idiot," she hissed. "Tell him off for hexing me!"

"Yeah Harry, tell me off," I said suggestively. My tongue did another slow circuit of my lower lip.

Alright, here's the thing: never before had I tried to be seductive. With everyone I've ever dated (and I'm ashamed to say there have been quite a few) I have always gone at it with a 'take it or leave it' approach. But Harry was special which was why I was making this up as I went along. Potentially very embarrassing should he laugh himself stupid.

But he _wasn't_. Laughing, I mean. He was looking fidgety alright, even running his fingers through his hair a few times as if undecided. Too late I remembered that my own hair looked like a ridiculous wavy nest of white. Oh screw it. If I managed to fall for Harry when he had hair like a bail of straw I'm sure he could extend the same courtesy to me.

"I love you Harry," the Weaselette murmured, winking at me over Harry's shoulder. "I've always loved you." Ah, the death-strike. The one bloody thing I couldn't compete with! "I'll want you _forever_, not for some twisted two week homo-experiment."

I tried to calm my breathing by imagining Ginny Weasley with an apple in her mouth, going round and round on a spit.

Before this happened to me, I used to sneer at the Gryffindor house ghost for comparing lots of things in life to 'getting struck in the neck with a blunt axe'. But now I finally understand what he was talking about. This wouldn't kill me but it was still agony.

Her arms had creeped over his shoulders now like some obnoxious strangling weed...oh how I would love to douse her with weed killer or chop her up with a pair of secateurs.

Behind Harry and the she-devil, commotion was stirring down the corridor. I couldn't even be bothered to see what was happening. God I hated Ginny Weasley!

However, it seemed that Ginny Weasley was very interested in current affairs. She unwound herself from Harry to peer at the crowds. Someone appeared to be shouting. I didn't look. I was too busy trying to assassinate the orange coloured Weasel with my eyes.

"Oh my, Malfoy, keep you groupies on a leash would you?" she retorted gleefully to me. It was only then that I realised the voices shouting bloody murder at each other were my friends.

"I don't care if you don't like it!" Pansy screamed, using her 'I'm so angry I could kill' voice. "It has nothing whatsoever to do with you!"

"Yes it does!" Blaise roared back. Theo started to move forward, probably intending to break it up and save them the public humiliation that their very vocal match would stir. I stopped him. They needed to get it out in the open now or never. "I care if you've got your tongue down the mouth of some arse-kissing little – "

"Don't call him that!"

Pansy and Blaise seemed to be getting closer to us. They were walking with great speed down the corridor, Pansy practically dragging the cute Ravenclaw boy behind her. I shook my head when I caught myself thinking the word 'cute'. So boys were cute now were they? Well if I tilted my head to the right a bit and squint my eyes... Nope, still not as cute as Harry.

"I can kiss whomever I like thank you very much Zabini!"

"Well so can I!" Blaise yelled back.

"Who is this poor girl with such low standards?" Pansy laughed bitterly. "I feel so sorry for her."

"You want to know?" Blaise asked quietly so that everyone in the corridor had to strain their ears to catch it. "You want to know who it is?"

"Yes," she said challengingly.

"I thought you invented her," Theo whispered in my ear. I nodded confusedly. Theo and I glanced at each other in puzzlement and shrugged. Had Blaise found a girl without my help so quickly?

Blaise and Pansy were almost right in front of us now. Blaise had his back to us and Pansy simply seemed oblivious to our presence. Imagine what a shock it was then when Blaise turned around in a second and grinned at me wolfishly. I had thought him unaware of Theo's and mine existence in the corridor. But Blaise wasn't looking at Theo. Blaise was looking at me.

"Er...Hi?" I said apprehensively. There was something about the look Blaise was giving me that made me feel deeply uneasy.

With one whirling motion, Blaise threw his arm jovially around my shoulder. The heat that radiated from that arm was not at all comforting. It was as if my best friend had transformed into an undetonated bomb.

"Draco."

That was all he said. His voice was eerily calm, given that he had just been shouting. He just said my name like it was the answer to everything.

"Er...yes?" I asked hesitantly. When he'd said 'Draco' it hadn't _sounded_ like he was talking to me, but with Blaise nothing was certain.

The arm snaked around my shoulders was not reassuring either. I was used to Blaise touching me or to Pansy wrapping me up in sudden hugs by now, having had nearly a lifetime of practise. To my long standing bemusement I had managed to make friends with the only two people in Slytherin house who were completely comfortable with touching other people. So, you see, the arm thing was not a problem. Confusing in its abruptness, but not unexpected.

He looked sideways at me and smiled mischievously. I frowned back. This was a strange interlude with the fight he and Pansy had been having. Was I expected to intervene? Maybe I should be helping Blaise hold the Ravenclaw down so he could drill through his kneecaps...

I smiled a little at the thought of Harry's repulsed face if he'd heard that thought.

As soon as Harry's name drifted across the surface of my mind, my eyes were drawn to him. He was standing exactly where I had left him, only the Weaselette seemed to have succeeded in dragging him a few steps further away. She was still clinging round his neck like Venomous Tentacula, one hand treaded through his hair, the other on his shoulder. My smile vanished as quickly as it had come.

Blaise pinched me lightly and I turned my attention back to the curious angle that this fight had taken.

"It's Draco, Pansy." His arm hugged me a little tighter.

"What's Draco?" Harry, Pansy and I all asked at the same time. My eyes flicked back over to Harry immediately. Ginny Weasley the strangling vine winked at me sarcastically, adding in a little jiggling wave with her fingers. Harry's eyes were focused on me. He looked...suspicious.

It was that suspicion that caused my spirits to drop a few notches. The good terms we had been on were developing cracks _already_.

Pansy flipped a black strand of hair out of her eyes and glared at us both. "_Stay_ Peter!" The last remark was directed at the handsome Ravenclaw boy behind her who had been trying to slink away from all three of us.

To my slight surprise, Blaise did not even flinch at the casual use of Ravenclaw Peter's first name. He continued to smile benignly back at them. It was this if nothing else that alerted me to possible danger. If Blaise wasn't jumping up and down with a hex on the tip of his tongue that meant something worse.

I was reminded of a lazy day we had all spent by the lake in second year before any kind of romantic complications came up. _"Don't try and deny it Blaise, you're the quiet one in this group. Everybody has their part to play_."

Blaise had looked at both of us scornfully and then said "_I'm not quiet...I'm plotting."_ And let me tell you, he was quiet up until about third year. So that's two whole years he spent 'plotting'. That is a whole lot of...plot...stored up.

And it was obviously coming out now.

"Pansy; everyone," he said, throwing his other arm wide as if to embrace the whole corridor. A few of the nearest people flinched back from him. I had a feeling I knew what was coming now and every warning bell known to man was shrieking away in my head.

I stomped on his foot as hard as I could manage without actually breaking it. This had no effect except to make him wince slightly as he beamed at me. The hand on my shoulder pinched harshly in rebuke.

"It is my long awaited pleasure to finally come clean about something rather serious." His face was as cheery as I had ever seen it but the undercurrent rippling around his eyes told a different story. This was revenge of the highest degree.

"I would like to introduce –"

Please God. Let him be showing off some obscure new tattoo. Nothing to do with me. Please. Please, please, pl–

"My secret lover–"

Damn him. Damn him straight to –

"The amazing, one of a kind, hotter than a hot potato – _Draco Malfoy_!"

~O~

**AN**: The next instalment should be posted shortly, as soon as I stop neglecting my other work that I have to do (I am _awesome_ at procrastinating). I'm also kind of proud of that cliff-hanger! What do you think will happen next? _I_ already know but can anyone else tap into my mental frame of mind and guess?


	12. Risk

Thanks for all the reviews! (I took my own sweet time posting this but I hope you'll forgive me now that it's here. Enjoy!)

**Chapter 12 - Risk**

"_It is my long awaited pleasure to finally come clean about something rather serious." His face was as cheery as I had ever seen it but the undercurrent rippling around his eyes told a different story. This was revenge of the highest degree. _

"_I would like to introduce –" _

_Please God. Let him be showing off some obscure new tattoo. Nothing to do with me. Please. Please, please, pl– _

"_My secret lover–" _

_Damn him. Damn him straight to – _

"_The amazing, one of a kind, hotter than a hot potato – Draco Malfoy!" _

~O~

Every eye swivelled from Blaise's beaming face to my fighting for control one. Father taught me what to do in most situations. One thing he never thought to pass on was what to do when your best friend calls attention to your homosexuality in front of an over-excited mob. Or compares you to a potato. A mob that contains the boy you're trying to woo away from his obnoxious girlfriend.

I didn't want to think about Harry or even look in his direction.

"Draco?" Pansy whispered, her eyes filling up with tears of hurt.

"_Malfoy_?" Weaselette asked incredulously, eyes filling up with tears of mirth.

"Draco Malfoy?" Harry echoed hollowly. This seemed to start a Mexican wave of people uttering my name in varying shades of disbelief. Even though it should have been the very last thing in my mind, part of me still bristled indignantly. I was in the same league as Blaise! I could have Blaise if I wanted him. As it was I wanted to _hit_ him but...

"I know you are all very surprised," Blaise called over the outraged mutters. "But it is utterly true. We've been together for _ages_." His eyes fixed unwaveringly on Pansy for this last declaration as her whole face crinkled up like spoiled paper.

"I'm going to kill you." I said calmly, my voice nothing more than a threatening whisper as I turned my head to the side to stare at Blaise. He'd obviously lost his mind. He'd inhaled something or drank something or hit his head forcefully on a hard object. "What are you _doing_?"

The arm wrapped around me hugged me tighter to his side. I wanted to wiggle out from under it and deck him with one lovely punch.

"Making her jealous," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world to be doing. "Making them _both_ jealous." When I wrapped a hand around my wand ominously he rolled his eyes and leant in closer. Though this prompted another wave of talk to spread, worryingly I didn't care. I was waiting impatiently for Blaise's explanation. Boy it had better be good.

"I'm kissing someone else so that she'll get insanely envious and realise it's me she wants, not that blond fruitcake from Ravenclaw."

"First of all," I said calmly, as though raising my voice above the scarily even pitch it was would frighten a young child. "Never imply that being blonde makes you a fruitcake ever again. And secondly, _why did you have to pick me_? There are hundreds of girls who go to this school. You're not even..." Would I ever be able to say it? "You know..._Gay."_

"Because you're her best friend," Blaise told me simply, "The one she asks fashion tips from and emotional advise from and tells all her little girly secrets to."

I scowled deeply, not caring that the lines on my face now would probably be there forever. What he was saying about Pansy and I was true, but there was no need to make me sound like such a _flaming queer_.

"What hurts more than having the person you like hook up with your best friend _behind your back_?" he asked, raising an eyebrow questioningly. "And I'm not completely selfish – this is perfect for you too. For you and Potter."

I could find a million different faults to this 'brilliant' Slytherin logic. The first being, Harry was going to _hate_ this.

I could understand how it would work out for Blaise though. He'd get his girl, they'd wonder off to snog somewhere and leave me to be torn apart by my merciless peers. Perfect.

Reluctantly my inner-Slytherin applauded his plan. It was a good one, I could admit that. Well, good for Blaise. It was in no way good for me and my immediate future.

Blaise shot me a wink, his jaw set. The fairies in my stomach were multiplying ominously as he leant in closer and closer and..._closer_. By the time the squawking voice in the back of my head broke through the daze I was trapped in it was already too late to hit him. His lips, which I had never really looked at or thought about before, seemed evilly close and wet with saliva.

Why is my life so tragic?

~O~

My unexpected kiss from Blaise lasted for exactly four seconds. I know because although the rest of my head went into stunned meltdown, the part of my brain that was still in moderately working order was numbly keeping track.

I was going to kill him.

And no, the kiss wasn't on the lips. My reactions are not yet so slow that I can't turn my head away in time. It was a soft lingering kiss to the temple that got laid on me, catching a little of my hair in the process.

He pulled back with an exaggerated "Mwah!" sound, ruffling my hair even as I tried to squirm away.

There were gasps and giggles issuing throughout the corridor, girls hyperventilating and guys looking repulsed. It all faded into background noise for me. The only sounds I could hear coherently were the rushing of blood in my ears and the absurdly loud sound of my own breathing.

My face was frozen into a look of surprise, like Pansy had just revealed a secret love for skrewts or Mother had let a trades person into the house. This whole experience was absurd.

I could understand how Blaise would be able to stir up trouble in someone else's life – my own being a prime example – but to do this to himself? As the hissing all around us reached its peak, I forced a smile and tilted my head back so I could speak directly into Blaise's ear.

"What," I growled through my still grinning teeth, "In the name of _all that is magical_ was that?"

"_That_ was an act of affection from your loving boyfriend," Blaise explained in his normal voice, using a free hand to stroke my hair. I scowled even harder and moved my head away from the petting. To my consternation, Blaise's hand stayed where it was, rubbing little circles into my scalp.

"If you keep that hand where it is, _sweetheart_, you will lose it. Understand?" The hand paused in its ministrations but did not move. The curiosity of what I would do if he left it there was evident on his face. "I will hit you." Nothing. "Hard." With a sigh the hand left my hair after one last lingering stroke.

"But you _like_ having your hair touched Draco. You're always letting Pansy –"

"Yes but Pansy – no, stop it! Don't change the subject!"

He was saved answering by Pansy's yell. "You're not dating _Draco_!" she cried, the confidence of her voice undermined by her face taut with tension and the hand still tight around her wand. "Who do you think you're kidding?" Her laugh rang down the corridor but was cut off quickly. She seemed to have remembered she tended to snort when she laughed too much.

A laugh-snort would have ruined the tense mood perfectly. Damn it Pansy, why couldn't you have snorted?

"Oh but I am," Blaise countered, hugging me so tight I was sure I would bear the imprint of his arm forever. "We are dating. Aren't we Draco?"

I looked from Blaise's pleading smile to Pansy's incredulous one. Pansy's eyes had tightened in a way that signified my imminent death approaching. Blaise was probably remembering all the times I had forced him to do obscure tasks and then added a hasty 'I owe you one alright?' I was now regretting each and every one of those times.

Damn it, why was everything up to me?

Even as I opened and closed my mouth a few times, Blaise's whispered words descended into my ear.

"...I'll do your Transfiguration homework for a month?"

Please. As if I had to even think about that one.

"Not worth it," I replied, my brain conjuring thoughts of how injured Harry's face would look without actually having to look his way.

"Two months?"

"Not a chance."

"Twenty galleons?"

Come _on_. If Blaise thought for one second that I could be bought so cheaply, he had clearly be inhaling something he shouldn't. On the mental image of Blaise sniffing potion chemicals, something clicked into place for my twisted logic.

"You have obviously lost your mind," I said gently; glad to have worked it out. "Of course! But its ok Blaise, we'll get you the help you need." He made a sound in his throat to stop me but I pressed on, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. How could I have not seen it sooner? "The care at Saint Mungos really would help you greatly. There are all types of pills, potions, herbs –"

"Draco –"

" – The staff there are wonderfully experienced –"

"_Draco_ –"

" – even the food in the cafeteria isn't _so_ bad –"

"What are you, and advertisement for Saint Mungos? Be _quiet_," he insisted as I opened my mouth to speak again. "I'm not insane. I'm just insanely in love with _her_," he shot Pansy a withering look.

I folded my arms across my chest. "I'm not convinced of your sanity," I muttered sullenly.

"You don't have to be. You just have to be a friend and help me out."

Oh the guilt. I could already feel it wrapping a cold hand around my heart. Blaise was a friend after all; my best friend. Pansy was my best friend too. If this cocked up scheme of Blaise's actually worked, got them together...

But Harry, my Harry, was watching everything and would without a doubt be drawing hideously wrong conclusions...

I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to starve off the headache this was giving me.

"_Alright_," Blaise growled, obviously taking my silence for refusal. "I promise that...that – yes I've got it! After this is over I'll help you work the magic with Potter. You two will be shagging like Weasels in heat but the end of the month, trust me."

"That is gross." Ginger headed Weasels, my least favourite type of people. If you blocked out that part of the conversation however and focused on the idea of just me and Harry together, shagging... My hands trembled a little in desperation.

Did I trust him? Before this little episode, I would have said, hand on heart, 'yes'. Blaise's promises meant more than just words, they meant commitment under oath. He could be a lying malicious roommate at times, but still...his word was solid.

If I went through with this hare-brained idea of his I would probably die a terribly death, either by being skewered by a pitchfork carrying mob or turned to stone by Pansy's hateful glare. Maybe I would even die of embarrassment when I had to meet up with Harry in the library on Wednesday, after he'd seen me pretending to date my best friend.

Sure, fake-dating another boy who wasn't Harry Potter in front of Harry Potter was probably not the best move for trying to win him over. But if Blaise said I could get him in under a month...

"Oh for the love of....fine! I'll do it." I whispered, sucking up my remaining resolve and forcing my own arm around his waist. I cleared my throat and then said loudly, "Yes Pansy. Blaise is my...my...he's with me."

There was a moment of complete silence in the corridor, punctuated only by everyone's laboured breathing.

"It's not _that_ weird is it?" I muttered gloomily. Blaise just shrugged, looking happy, the bastard. It was everyone else's incredulous stares that told me otherwise. "Ok, it's officially weird."

"Dating?" Theo's sceptical whisper said, amusement colouring his tone. "Yeah, right! Pull the other one Draco!"

When had Theo moved to stand so close to Harry? I hadn't seen him take any steps at all towards him and yet...he seemed to have moved when I was occupied in the present scene. He was maybe a little bit _too_ close to Harry, now I thought about it. Even as I watched he turned back to Harry's ear and began whispering frantically.

What was that about?

I looked at Harry but he was staring straight at the opposite wall, his face deathly white. Seeing this made my own face blush, my imagination stretching to conjure up what might be going on in Potter's mind. Damn it, why was I so clueless to other people's thoughts these days?

"Not at all Theo," Blaise retorted, grinning and ruffling my hair affectionately. I tried hard not to grimace at him and extracted my revenge instead by stomping subtly on his foot. "We are very much – Ouch! – a dating couple. We have been for _ages_."

Yes, a whole...seven minutes.

"Aren't we Draco?"

"Yes," I muttered, making it clear through my tone that I liked the idea about as much as I liked sticking pins into my eyes. "You," I hissed in my most menacing voice, "are digging me a very deep grave." I could feel the burn on my skin as the entire world glared disapprovingly at me. "Why did you have to –"

"They were going to find out eventually Draco!" he called loudly, tilting his head to the side so our skulls knocked together in what he obviously thought to be an affectionate gesture. He succeeded in hitting the sore spot where I had collided with the sink only this morning. The dull ache returned, throbbing irritatingly. With every throb in the temples, an image rose unbidden into my mind; Harry's face, the buttery finger in my mouth, Pansy taking me to the hospital wing, the scream of the she-weasel.

It all seemed so long ago.

I turned my head up towards his ear and tried not to look how I felt: frustration and embarrassed. A small part of me wanted to laugh and pat him on the back for how he was orchestrating this whole affair. I smothered it down with absolute ease. "You'd better have a really good plan for getting me with Harry, Blaise. And I mean really good."

Blaise laughed loudly and falsely. "No we can't go back to the dorm room _yet_ Draco! Merlin, you're so _insatiable_ –"

I laughed lightly while jabbing my wand into his side as a clear rebuke. "I mean it you know," I said lightly, forcing a smile onto my face for our many spectators. "If you don't deliver your end, you won't live to see Christmas."

"Yes yes, of course Draco," he said vaguely, eyes still fixated on Pansy Parkinson, the love of his seventeen year-old life. The furious electricity between them was almost like a tangible force, so strong it was nearly singeing my eyebrows. "There's just no hiding a _love like ours_."

Blaise looked directly at Pansy and grinned. "This has been a long time coming I think."

The L-word seemed to snap through the air and knock the breath out of all of us. "How could you do this to me?" Pansy said, and her voice had died down to a mournful whisper. "How could you leave me out this way?"

It was out of the corner of my eye that I saw Harry move. He had given an enormous shudder and began to walk quickly up the corridor away from the argument – away from me.

"You can't choose who you fall for," I said desperately, feeling the situation splinter irreparably around me. It was worth a shot. "Hell, I never in a million years thought I'd end up kissing you in hallways!"

His steps had slowed, and he came to stop at Pansy's side. He hadn't even turned round, just stopped, hopefully listening.

"I didn't used to like you all that much, you know?" I said lightly, feeling the ripples of confusion from our collective audience. I had always liked Blaise. Shame that I was no longer talking about Blaise. "But you probably knew that."

There was a pause where I watched his shoulders tense up beneath the robes. He was definitely listening.

"I've always had a weird relationship with you," I said honestly, not even wanting to stop the truth coming forth anymore. How unlike me. "Even on days where I wasn't talking to anyone, I could still manage a few words to you in the hallways."

It was all coming out now. But unlike usual Harry-related-word-vomit, this was true, all of it true.

"You bring out a side of me I don't want to acknowledge and force me to be a better person. Um, well," I stumbled over the words, "not completely better, I mean, I still a prat to you, and I snap at your friends all the time and –"

Before I could even finish my last thought, the arm around my waist was tilting me backwards and Blaise's lips hit their intended target: right on top of my own. It was the cheesiest position for a kiss I had ever been in, the kind a wizard gave a witch after a dance. I felt indignant that I was in the witch's position and even more indignant went Blaise gave me a killer smile and said loudly: "I forgive you!"

"That wasn't –"

"WAIT!""

Pansy's yell almost sent me a foot into the air. "You weren't talking about Blaise, not _any_ of it! Well, except for being a prat to his friends." Regrettable, but sadly necessary.

"So what is it you like about your boyfriend Draco? Does he have any worthwhile features at all?" Damn her.

"Um, well..." I looked between Blaise and Harry, feeling the pressure. "He has really soft black hair, and beautiful tanned skin. A bit taller than me though he never mentions it... he's nice to everyone and quite um, buff?"

Buff? Please let the floor open up and swallow me. She had reached out an arm and pinned the startled looking Harry in her grip. He flinched as she clung onto him before going curiously still in her arms, watching us watching him.

"Black hair, tan, tall and buff you say?" she said, looking Harry up and down. "Alright." There was a subdued wave of uneasy laughter from the spectators.

"I even like his dorky glasses," I muttered, the words slipping past my careful filter system.

"Blaise doesn't wear glasses," Pansy said shrewdly, demonstrating her ability to hear even the tiniest murmuring.

"He wears _reading_ glasses."

Pansy arm slid abruptly off Harry's shoulder. He looked as relieved as I felt when Blaise imitated the movement with me seconds later. Pansy was stalking forwards at an agonisingly slow pace across to us, Blaise like her mirror image walking to meet her.

"You're not gay," she insisted, her footsteps making gentle clinking noises on the stone. "In forth year when we had the water fight, you couldn't stop staring when my top went see-through."

Blaise gave her a hesitant grin. "It was one of the best afternoons of my life."

She growled, taking two more steps. "And the morning after I told you I liked this Ravenclaw fruitcake," she waved a hand carelessly over her shoulder, "you put twenty dead spiders in his bed and salt in his cereal."

"Immature – but worth it," he said into the now deadly silent corridor. "I had to at least try to get rid of the competition."

"There never was any competition," she whispered, eyes huge in her pale face.

"For you either," he said quietly. Both of them turned around to look at me. 'Sorry,' Blaise mouthed before smiling and turning back. They had now reached the centre ground, exactly halfway between me and Harry. Close enough to touch.

My heart was in my mouth for both of them, fingers crossed in the pocket of my robes.

"You used Draco to make me jealous," she intoned impassively, reaching out and trailing a finger up Blaise's arm.

"Yes."

"You kissed him, even though you know he wants..." she trailed off at my horror struck expression and frantic finger across the throat gestures. As everyone was looking at her and not me, I felt relatively safe. And really, everybody already knew my Potter-fetish; did it have to be dragged up again? "Well, that he doesn't want _you_ like that. And you kissed him..."

"Yes. For you."

There was a moment of silence in which I wished so hard for it to work out well that my fairy godmother must have been doing overtime. Finally, after looking at each other for a few more _long _moments, Pansy brought up her hand and _slapped_ Blaise as hard around the face as she possibly could.

"You're an idiot," she pronounced, grinning so hard I thought her face would split. "But you're _my_ idiot now."

And with that she smashed her lips against his.

~O~

I couldn't identify the warm feeling in my chest as I joined everyone else in gaping at Pansy and Blaise. Was it happiness? Pride? Most likely a bit of both. And of course there was the dominant emotion of just plain exasperation.

Her arms were around his neck, I noted vaguely. They had the exact perfect position, the right height difference for each other – it was the pinnacle of romantic kisses. So there _was_ one thing they couldn't mess up. After all this time...

Rubbing the back of my neck in mild embarrassment for my sentimental feelings, I looked down at my shoes. This was one of the weirdest days I'd ever had, which was definitely saying something as every day spent with Pansy and Blaise was weird.

Theo had meandered back over to me, and nodded in the direction of the entrance hall. _Let's give them a minute alone shall we?_ Was the nonverbal message I managed to pick up. A bit of an obscure message as the corridor was still teaming with people. The option of giving our friends some privacy was out of the question.

"Sure," I said, as we began to weave through people. I was likely to be spending a lot more time with Theo now, as Pansy and Blaise were together, wasn't I?

A wave of self pity washed over me suddenly, causing me to freeze mid step. Even as I appeased Theo's worries, internally I was soaked in new insecurity. My two best friends were dating. Theo had a girlfriend of his own. Vince and Greg...well, just didn't count. I was the only single left. I was _alone_.

Oh Merlin. How pathetic.

"Actually," I said, changing plan, "Do you mind if we try to find Har- um, _Potter_?" Yep, he'd noticed the slip, if the lip curling smile was anything to go by. I pressed on. "I want to clear things up with him. No more mixed signals, you know?"

"Whatever," he shrugged and we changed direction.

As I discovered a few minutes later, Harry was impossible to find. The crowd was moving too quickly for me to be able to see much of anyone, everyone gossiping and slowly making their way to lessons. Every time my eyes caught sight of black hair, my heart jumped into my throat.

"HEY!"

The indistinct bellow rang off the walls, possibly addressed to any of the fifty or so people in the corridor along with me. It didn't sound like Harry so I ignored it. It couldn't be for me.

"Hey! HEY! I'm talking to you!"

"Don't look round," Theo muttered, smiling at the prospect of another fight so soon after the last drama. "But I think the Weasel wants to talk to you." I glowered, quickly sinking into a dark mood over my continued misfortune. The universe was surely just taking the piss now.

"Keep looking for Harry," I insisted. Whatever Weasley wanted to say to me, I was sure I didn't want to hear it.

"Hey Ferret face," came the unwelcome voice _right behind me_.

Well there was no avoiding it now, I told myself sternly. Just turn around deal with it.

"Hello Wea –"

_Wham_.

I had not even fully turned around when a fist connected smartly with my jaw.

Never turn your back on an angry enemy, I thought sourly to myself. There should be some sort of warning sticker on people like this. I had turned away on my Harry-hunt for two seconds and BAM. Hit in the face.

I should have expected it from someone like Weasley, I thought bitterly as I rubbed my chin. That rat had proved his Gryffindor stupidity so many times; I deserved to be smacked for overlooking it. But I guess I hadn't really overlooked it, just forgotten that he existed for a little while. Wishful thinking.

I was slightly surprised by the speed behind it. The fist – that for all my Quidditch skills I had not seen coming – had connected with my face and made me drop to my knees.

I touched the place tenderly with my fingers. No blood, no broken nose... just a painful prediction of the bruise that was sure to blossom there. Great, thanks a bunch Weasel.

"Stop messing Harry about." Straight to the point, in the traditional Gryfindork fashion. He looked down at me with the strangest expression on his red face. It was like he wanted to keep hitting me...while wanting to restrain himself. Weird.

"I'm not 'messing him about' Weasley," I said irritably, poking my sore jaw this way and that. What an arsehole. "Maybe you should stop punching people."

"Maybe you should stop being a prat then."

I sighed. "Weasley that's _you_."

Suddenly realising I was still on the floor and technically at Weasley's feet, I scrambled hastily upright. I still had _some_ pride. Seeing his flaring nostrils and red ears, I rolled my eyes and spoke to him in my most placating tone. "Look Weasel. Harry's a big boy; he can look after himself fine enough. He doesn't need a babysitter."

"Nor does he need a tosser like you messing with his emotions! He's happy with Ginny!"

I was suddenly stumbling backwards a few steps. _Did he just push me? _

The words 'all hell broke loose' took on an entirely new meaning to me as I swung for Weasley.

People scattered back from us as we began to brawl in earnest, fists flying and colliding with each other. His weight was crushing me into the floor as we rolled over and over, trying to smash the others head against the stone. I liked to think that I was winning.

Theo and Blaise were egging me on, Pansy screaming at me to stop. They weren't the only ones yelling.

"The Gayness! The Gayness is spreading!" Flint roared to the crowds, his arms thrown in the air as if begging God for mercy. "First Malfoy and then Zabini – now it's even blood traitors like Weasley! – No straight man is safe – run for your lives! RUN!" Boys all around were wiping hands on their robes, trying desperately to rid themselves of the taint of 'gayness'. Had I not been busy trying to strangle Weasley I would have probably found myself doing it too. If only my Harry obsession would be wiped away on my trousers... I shook my head at my own stupidity. Utterly stupid in every respect, that's what I was.

Noise battered my eardrums as I ran my fingernails harshly down Weasley's arms. He howled like a dog in pain and extracted revenge by punching me in the face. What was wrong with everyone? All I wanted to do was search for the one person I wanted to see, his name like my thudding pulse; _Harry, Harry, Harry_.

"This," growled the Weasel as he knocked my head onto the floor, "is for kissing Harry. And this," another thump, "Is for being a prat. And this – this one is for making Ginny cry." Smack.

I rolled us, making sure to knee him in the gut as we went. "I didn't make your sister cry!"

"You did! You've made Harry – _ouch_! – Confused and...Question what he..._wants_," he panted, trying to pull my hair out of my head. "He's thinking he might break up with Ginny – because of you! Because of the things you're doing and saying to discourage him! It wasn't even something he was considering before you _ruined it_."

_Harry, Harry, Harry. Is that really true_?

I had fallen still on top of Weasley, who shoved me to the side with malice. I was too busy thinking delirious thoughts. That Harry might not be as happy with the Weaselette as I had first thought. Maybe, if nobody did anything too stupid, they might break up.

"Is Harry really going to break up with her?" I tried to confirm, using my 'serious' face to try and pull it out of him. "Have you actually heard him say it or are you just...guessing?"

"_Why you little_ –" I braced myself for another punch, but we were interrupted by a gasping shout.

"Ron!"

Harry's breathless voice.

"Harry! Don't worry mate, I've got it –"

"Get off him!"

"Yeah Ferret face –"

"Not him, _you_! Get off him!" He began tugging at the Weasel's robes, trying to pull him off me. "You're as bad as each other! Let – him – go!" My head was swimming as Weasley's dead weight was hauled off my legs and torso. Harry was...defending me? Sticking up for me? Siding with _me_ instead of his friend?

"Harry what are you _doing_?"

I was asking myself the exact same thing, except the voice in my head was much more buoyant and hopeful.

"Are you alright?" he muttered, crouching down beside me. Harry Potter, defender of the helpless, hero to the masses, my new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, was shaking my arm. "Malfoy? You look pretty messed up."

"BOYS!" Professor McGonagall's chilling yell made all of us freeze where we were. Well, except for Potter, who seemed immune to it and continued to glance worriedly at me. "Get away," she was saying to the surrounding students, chivvying them out of the loose circle that had formed. "Back to your lessons!" Her nostrils were flaring worse than Weasley's. "And you three," she placed us under her murderous stare. "_Explain_."

Weasley jumped in before I could say anything. "All the Slytherins have gone bonkers, Professor! Zabini was snogging Malfoy, then Parkinson was snogging Zabini, and then when I confronted _him_ about it," he pointed accusingly at me, "he hit me."

"Excuse me," I said incredulously from my position on the floor, "I hit _you_ first? Has Gryffindor honesty died out?"

"Has Slytherin become a sanctuary for queers?"

"Yes but I'm sorry Weasley, you can't join; we still have standards."

"Must be pretty low if they let you in."

"But still too high for _you_."

"Boys. Stop." McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose as if praying for patience. Her head swivelled from us to Harry who was still crouching at my side his hands resting on his knees, head bowed. "Potter, you've been very quiet thus far. What have you got to say for yourself?"

"I plead neutral in all of this," he said, raising both arms in surrender.

"He wasn't involved Professor," I confirmed, a little confused when Harry's eyes met mine in gratitude. It was the truth wasn't it? "I mean it was _about_ Potter, by Potter wasn't, you know...involved..." I faltered as everyone's eyes fixed on me. "Um, I'm just going to shut up now."

"It was about me?" Harry asked confusedly. "You were fighting about me?"

"Every fight I get in is about you Potter," I said, wanting – inexplicably – to shake him. Couldn't he see what a fight I was putting up to win him over? How far I was prepared to go to play nice with him?

His mouth had pressed into a thin line and I hurried to reassure him. "Don't worry – you're worth every punch."

"I'm worth it?" he asked, eyes a fraction wider than normal. My heart sputtered absurdly. How did I ever wind up in Slytherin when my heart was as mushy as a Hufflepuff's?

"Boys!" I had almost forgotten McGonagall and Weasley were there with us. For a moment it had just seemed like Harry and me. "I don't know what's going on here and I'm not sure I want to either." She eyed my horizontal position on the floor and Weasley's bloody lip. "Twenty points from each of you Malfoy and Weasley."

We didn't protest, merely nodded.

As she swished away down the corridor, Weasley threw me a disgusted look and beckoned to Harry. "Come on Harry. We've wasted enough time here."

I sat up, rubbing my head, privately wishing for Weasley to go and for Harry to stay. Unless he was mad at me. Then he was welcome to leave.

"You go ahead," said Potter the mind reader, waving Weasley on. "I'll be there in a bit." I didn't hear Weasley's muttered response. All I could hear was the blood rushing around my ears.

As Weasley left, the corridor slowly emptied. Neither Harry nor I spoke for several long minutes. Finally, when the silence was about to crush me into dust, I blurted: "Are you still speaking to me then?"

Harry looked at me appraisingly. He had shuffled back a little so that he could rest against the corridor wall but his legs were still almost touching mine. I took comfort in that.

"I haven't decided yet," he said softly, playing with the cuffs of his robes. "I guess it all depends."

"Depends on what?" I asked eagerly. This could work out.

"Whether you were talking about Blaise or me," he said with a grin. Or not.

A nervous cough worked its way through my throat. I began to examine my own hands, interlocking my fingers and twisting them, suddenly hyperaware that underneath Harry's grinning look there was a serious question.

"I think you already know, right?" I said. Loathe was I to say the truth that _everybody_ knew except Potter.

I made the mistake of locking eyes with him. Wide green eyes played havoc with my soul. "Tell me?" he whispered pleadingly.

"Are you really going to make me say it?" I asked desperately, tilting my head up to admire the ceiling. "Everyone in the entire world already knows anyway." His gaze was unyielding. "Yes I was bloody talking about you." The words came out quieter than I had planned but still seemed to echo around us.

Harry's face was lighting up like a Christmas tree. His eyes were bright, lips turning upwards into a grin, cheeks slightly flushed. The image shot straight down to my groin and I hugged my bent knees to my chest.

"Well that changes things then." I wanted to ask what would be different for him but I daren't. "So..." he said, still looking like a thousand watt light bulb. "You want to talk about before? With Pansy and Blaise?"

He was doing it again, calling them by their first names. Weirdly, the voices in my head didn't mind too much. It was almost as if...as if by him calling them 'Pansy' and 'Blaise', we were somehow all friends. Wasn't it everybody's dream to have a partner who got on with their friends?

I could imagine playing chess against Blaise with Harry's head on my lap. I could see Harry getting on well with Pansy, sharing in her love of public scrutiny. I could easily picture us all at Hogsmeade, Harry and I holding hands, all of us in the Three Broomsticks for hot butterbeer...

"You don't have to tell me," he added, sounding put out.

"Wha...no! I mean yes, I'd like to talk to you about it - tell you about it I mean!" Zoning out while talking to someone was an annoying habit I seemed to have developed, a habit that I needed to kick immediately.

"I sure you've already guessed what it was about," I said, trying not to ogle him too much. That anyone could be so beautiful was sinful. I almost hated him for it. "You should definitely be able to relate after spending so much time around Weasley and Granger. Blaise and Pans are of a similar mould."

"Oh. Right." A look of complete understanding passed between us. "They both like each other, but neither is willing to make the first move?"

I couldn't help the thought that drifted lightly across my brain for a second. Maybe Pansy and Blaise, Granger and Weasley...were like Harry and I? We got into fights, then got back to normal, both wanting something different to the other. "Perhaps one of them already made the first move but the other one was too proud to act upon it." In my head it was quickly becoming more than just an analogy between Potter's friends and mine. It was spewing forth faster than I could contain it. "Maybe one of them was simply in _denial_, leaving everything down to the other one."

Harry looked flabbergast for a few moments before saying, "Well maybe it was all happening so quickly that he just didn't know what to do."

"I feel no sympathy for him." I said stiffly. "My bloke has become outcast from his own house and put everything on the line –"

"Well maybe the guy _I'm_ talking about is completely confused by it all!" Harry said loudly, throwing his arms up and making me jump. "He never expected any of this to happen. He had friends and a girlfriend and a nemesis who all played balanced parts in his life. What's he meant to feel like when suddenly they're all switching places?"

"Well...he should feel..." I faltered, suddenly noticing how uncomfortable _I_ was feeling. This was the first _nearly_ honest conversation we were having about our situation. Sure, it was using hypothetical people who shared the same experiences as us and not actually Harry and Draco but... it was honest enough. For us it was honest enough.

Better to wrap it up now before it could get messy. "I'm sorry." I thought I must look properly sorry as well, as mixed up and insecure as I was feeling inside. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way."

"Who says I was talking about us?" he asked, and it was only his swift smile afterwards that stopped me from passing out cold. "I might have been talking about two other blokes I know."

"Well, in that case... Could you maybe tell the confused one that...that the prick is sorry for not seeing his side of things? I mean – I imagine that the idiot one would want him to, you know, know that."

There was a pause the beat of drum where I was left feeling very stupid. The words had sounded fine in my head, but out loud and in front of my ex-rival Potter they sounded embarrassingly juvenile.

And then there was warmth on my hand I had not expected.

Were we...holding hands? Or even more peculiar, was Potter holding my hand?

I stared at our contrasting skin tones for a few moments and tried to work out how this small action made me so ludicrously happy. The rough skin looked even more sun-kissed atop my smooth anaemic pallor. Very slowly, in case I broke the weird magic between us, I flipped my hand over so that it was palm up. When no resistance greeted this, I laced our fingers.

Voluntarily holding hands? I was more than half expecting him to snatch it back and claim temporary insanity.

"Malfoy?" I pretended not to hear him, wanting to hear my name again. Because even though it wasn't my first name, which would have been idyllic, it was still _me_. "Malfoy," spoke the angels voice again. "_Malfoy_."

"Yes Potter?" I said casually, acting for all the world as though we were not sitting side by side in an empty corridor, holding hands. My acting skills were poor but my sarcasm was unrivalled.

"Are we still on for tomorrow?"

Tomorrow was Wednesday, an insignificant day. Double charms, transfiguration, a free and then Herbology. What was I suppose to be looking forward to from that drab line up?

Potter seemed to interpret my blank look correctly. "My potions lesson, remember? I could really use the help. I hope you're not backing out."

"Oh _that_. Yes of course I remembered that. I'm almost insulted that you think I'd forget it. _Hic_!" Panicking, I had swallowed too much air and managed to give myself hiccups. Really attractive.

"Right. Well I just wanted to know what you thought of maybe meeting up by the lake instead of the library. The library is so..."

Coma-inducing.

"...Whereas by the Lake is more..."

Romantic?

"Scenic. So, um, is that a good plan? Because we could still hang out in the library if you'd prefer –"

"No! The lake is – _hic_ – perfect. So at five o'clock, after lessons, I'll meet you by the – _hic_ – cake. No, I mean lake! I meant to say...lake." My cheeks were burning horribly again. Hiccups, tongue tied and red faced. I was a real credit to purebloods everywhere.

"Alright Malfoy, I'll meet you there." Chuckling, he stood up and dusted himself off. "And I'll even bring cake." Then he winked. _Winked_. What was the world coming to?

~O~

It was as I sat in the Slytherin common room and cast my tenth tempus spell in fifteen minutes, that I thought maybe, just maybe, I was feeling a little impatient. Pansy and Blaise were still not back.

I had not gone to dinner but neither had they. As everyone was milling into the Great Hall for supper I had stuck my head in for a look around. I wasn't really in the mood to be grilled about the corridor theatrics earlier and after I had determined that they were not there, I wondered back to the common room.

I was brimming with barely repressed energy. Pansy and Blaise had kissed and were now a couple. I had punched Weasley and it had only cost me twenty house points. Harry and I were meeting tomorrow by the Lake. There was so much I needed to discuss!

Putting my time to good use, I cracked open my potions books. If we were meeting tomorrow for a potions lesson, there was no way I was making a fool of myself. I would be the best, most knowledgeable seventeen-year-old potions master there had ever been.

Harry would be in awe.

And alright, when I said I was revising my potions notes, what I actually meant was that my brain was slipping into a Harry Potter daydream. And it was bliss.

Just as the dream me (who was a good five inches taller and a lot more articulate) had dazzled Harry with potions knowledge, begun licking chocolate of his stomach and feeding him strawberries – the portrait hole opened.

"Draco, love, you're drooling."

"Pansy, Blaise, where have you _been_?" I tactfully avoided the drooling comment while at the same time wiping my mouth. "_Where have you been_?" I said again, more crossly. "You completely missed History of Magic and you didn't come to dinner. Explain."

I noted with joy the possessive way Blaise's arm was slung around Pansy's small waist.

"We were talking," said Blaise with an exaggerated pause. "And we think we'd like to be together. As a couple. Dating." I loved that sometimes Blaise could be just as tongue-tied as me.

Both were looking at me as though I held the power to cast judgement on their souls.

"So?" Said Pansy anxiously, her hand seeking out Blaise's and gripping it, "What do you think?"

"What do I think?" I asked, taking a step forwards. "I think...that it's great." And then I did something uncharacteristically me (because today was a day where everybody was behaving out of sorts). I pulled them both into a group hug. "You're so good for each other."

Both faces shone with happiness and relief. It made me feel queasy with delight that my opinion mattered so much to them. I could tell, even in that one evening before their relationship had even begun, that they wouldn't abandon me.

As we sank onto our favourite sofa, Pansy – after only the slightest hesitation – crawled onto Blaise's lap. He looked ecstatic and my own heart flopped about in my chest. This is what love looked like.

I spent the next two hours grilling them both for details. Some would have thought it nosey but with Pansy it was deemed 'the best friend's right of way'. I believe she would have hit me if I had remained neutral in the whole thing in much the same way that a bride expected people to fawn over the ring. I had no difficulty playing my part.

"Where did he take you?" I asked willingly, hoping for Blaise's sake that it was some place romantic. Pansy could hold a grudge for a long time.

"The sunlit Slytherin courtyard. We sat in the long grass under the blossom trees and I got pollen all in my hair..." she looked like the world had become a better place. Maybe for her it had.

"You look beautiful with pollen in your hair," said Blaise honestly. I was struck by how little had changed between them. Sure the touches between them were more lingering and open now but really, the old friendship remained. Just with more kisses and less misunderstandings.

"So what did you do?" I asked, forgetting for a moment that these were no longer 'my friends, Pansy and Blaise'. These were now 'my friends who date, Pansy and Blaise'.

Blaise gave me an exaggerated wink and Pansy giggled and looked radiant. "What do you think we were doing?"

"Oh God, don't bother explaining. If you tell me about shagging each other in the courtyard I'll never be able to go there again."

It was one of the only times I had seen Blaise go pink. "We didn't – we haven't –" he garbled for a few moments and both Pansy and I smirked.

"So tell us what happened with you and Potter," she said, apparently losing interest with our current conversation. "We just abandoned you in the corridor with him after he pulled Weasley off you. What happened? Was it romantic? Did he kiss you?"

I stared at her, trying to figure out how to Pansy, everything in the world could be sunshine and flowers.

She looked at me shrewdly, trying to interoperate my silence. "Oh Draco, _you_ didn't kiss him again did you? Because although we all know he likes it on a _subconscious_ level –"

"No I didn't!" I felt the indignity wash over me. "I didn't kiss him. But if I had he would have enjoyed it, I'm sure. There was...hand holding."

"You mean he actually told you he likes you?" She gasped. She had sat up and leant in, the gossip loving portion of her soul becoming dominant.

"Well...no." Come on, if he had I would be bouncing off the walls. "But Weasley told me that he was thinking about ditching the Weaselette. And then Harry told me that he was just really confused by everything that was happening. Confused is better than repulsed isn't it?" I didn't give Pansy the chance to reply. "_And_ we're meeting up tomorrow after class so I can give him potions lessons!"

"Your Potter Look has returned in full force," Blaise informed me. The was a pause where I waited for more. "It's nice to see."

"Thank you." Grinning, I pushed Pansy back onto Blaise's lap so I could move next to them on the settee. "I hope you both know your parts in this?"

As if I even had to tell Pansy; she was already squealing and hugging me. "Yay! Thanks Drake! Right, I'm thinking Muggle clothes – stop frowning at me, Potter likes them. You have that green turtleneck top that makes your arms look incredible and maybe combined with those black trousers you got for Christmas..." she drifted off to her happy place where I allowed her to dress me up all day.

"What's my role?" Asked Blaise even as Pansy jumped up and down on his lap. Ew – actually I wish I hadn't used that exact wording. "What do you want with me? You know I'm not good with fashion like Pansy is..."

"Hey," I said sharply, hoping to Merlin that Blaise wasn't about to back out. "We had an agreement remember? To help me get Potter in under a month? I starting that contract _now_."

"It was just talk Draco. I don't know how to –" he broke off at my murderous look. "But I'm all for trying! We'll go into intensive training tomorrow morning."

That was better. I had everything I needed now to get Harry. Pansy, my own stylist, would correct my fashion flaws. Blaise, my fail-me-never best friend would be there to curb my foot-in-mouth disease. But better that everything I had a willing Harry Potter, meeting me tomorrow at five o'clock by the black lake.

I grinned. This was the start of a beautiful relationship – and about time too.

~O~

**AN:** Anyone else clambering for some Drarry loving or is it just me? I think it's time the boys stepped it up a gear. Review and I will post a nice long chapter for you all with a few bits of juicy Drarry. :D


	13. The Lake

**AN:** Ok, I _know_ I haven't posted in a long time! Has it been about...*cough*...eight months? Work, essays, life...I'm sorry for the delay. I just wanted to say that if you have stayed with Harry and Draco to the bitter end, through the long posting gap and all these long chapters, then you are all amazing and I owe you guys one thousand thank you's. Your reviews have been brilliant and keep pushing me to write more.

This is the penultimate chapter of this story. Enjoy! :)

**Chapter 13 – The Lake **

~O~

I got ready for bed that night literally _buzzing_ with joy.

I was going on a semi-date with Potter. I was going to rock his Gryffindor world with my never-ending potions knowledge. I was going to wear the sexiest clothes I owned and wow him into an appreciative silence before he tore them off my hot and writhing body.

"I know. Now shut up."

I would bedazzle his tiny mind with my charm and wear down his Gryffindor sensibilities with my own Slytherin immoralities. I would –

"Dra-_co_ I _get_ it, alright?" Blaise said sounding both exasperated and disturbed. He pushed me out of the way to spit in the sink. "Now just shut up and brush your teeth. You keep spraying me with toothpaste."

Could I help it if certain thoughts had to be said aloud? And toothpaste wasn't important. Spraying Blaise with paste – which I absolutely had not been doing – while I chattered was even less important. All that was important were the words I chose to bellow next into Blaise's ear.

"Blaise I'm not sure you properly understand what I'm telling you. HARRY POTTER HAS ASKED ME OUT!" I flung my toothbrush haphazardly into the holder. It promptly bounced off and rolled out of sight under the cabinet. But no, not even that was going to bother me.

"If you shout – or _spray_ – one more Potter related thing in my direction Draco, you can count me out of your little plan," Blaise muttered darkly, though ruining it by holding his thumb under the tap to squirt me immaturely with water. He was happy for me – in his weird way.

"After all I did for you today?" I asked, touching my lips and adding a quiver of disgust. "You don't have a choice but to do it."

He looked deflated. Maybe he had been hoping to escape my ultimate punishment. Like that was going to happen. I was taking this for all it was worth.

"Blaise Zabini, you promised me – before you stuck your unwanted tongue into my mouth – to help me woo Potter and to curb my Gryffindor-induced stupidity. To shackle my inner-self from throwing embarrassing stories at him. All this you promised as you groped my arse just to get into Pansy's good books. You _promised_."

"I did nothing of the sort to your pointy little arse."

_You might as well have_, I said with my eyes.

I knew my point was secure when Blaise looked heavenwards and mumbled something that sounded like "Impossible...unfair...why God, why me?"

I loved Blaise for putting up with me.

"I hate you sometimes," he said mutinously, after he had finished conversing with the ceiling. "You make my life so _difficult_."

"I believe the word you were looking for was _interesting_."

I grinned at him and he glared back.

"No, I really did mean _difficult_."

~O~

"Blaise, are you asleep?"

I knew he wasn't asleep, but courtesy made me ask him a fourth time anyway. Each time I'd whispered it so far, Blaise had let out a huff and a tiny groan and scuffled about irritably with his covers.

It was his own fault really. All he had to do was _reply_. It was only polite.

I waited a beat, staring at the canopy of my bed. Silence. The soft snores of Vince and Greg filled the room and Theo's watch ticked. Nothing whatsoever to distract me or send me off to sleep.

I was as perky and wide-eyed as if I'd just taken a pepper-up potion. Everything seemed to be wrong. My pillow was too hard, my body was too warm, and the sheets had wrapped themselves in a tangle around my feet and lower legs. Great.

Worst of all was the thing in my mind.

Or, should I say, the _person_ in my mind.

I needed distraction.

"Blaise, are you –"

"Yes, I am bloody well _asleep_!" The voice was muffled and I imagined he had dragged a pillow over his head. "Leave me _alone_ you evil creature."

"I'm glad you're up," I said contentedly, tucking an arm behind my head, the better to lounge upon. "I'm bored and not tired and I need something to do. Entertain me. Tell me about that time when you locked yourself in the Transfiguration classroom for the weekend and refused to come out. I never tire of hearing that."

I did tire of hearing that. It was one of Pansy's favourite stories, not mine. Still, needs must.

"_Draco_."

Ah, the warning tone. A friend almost as dear to me as Blaise. If he was angry I would be more than willing to argue. I could no longer depend on Potter for a good argument and everyone else was subpar at best.

"Oops, sorry," I said, deliberately playing into it. "_Accidentally_ locked yourself in and _couldn't_ get out. My interpretation of it has become a little muddled over the years."

He refused to dignify that with an answer, more credit to him. No argument for me tonight. I chose a different tack.

"...Do you fancy a game of chess?"

The curtains around Blaise's bed were yanked open with force. I turned my head to the side and watched as a murderous face appeared between them. I smiled brightly which seemed to irk him further. This time it was an honest mistake – Blaise simply looked funny with a bed-head. So sue me for smiling at that.

Blaise was breathing calmly and deeply through his nose. A good sign. He would be patient. I waited for him to speak.

"Alright Draco." A vein was ticking angrily in his throat. Maybe he wouldn't be as patient as I thought.

"Great, I'll go set up the board –"

"No. I meant that's_ enough_. Whatever you want to say, just say it. Let it out. Be my guest. I'll listen to you and maybe, if I don't want to throttle you by the end, I'll give you some advice. But do not have the audacity to play mind games with me when it's _so bloody early_."

I blinked, taken aback. Chess wasn't a mind game, it was a board game.

"There's nothing I particularly want to discuss."

A raised eyebrow. "I'm going to ignore that blatant lie and allow you to continue."

"I just want your sparkling company!"

"Try again."

"Your quick wit?"

"Last chance."

I gave him a long suffering sigh which hurt my throat. "Ok maybe I was thinking about...him." There was no need to explain 'him'. "That stupid boy has taken over my mind. I'm losing my marbles here Blaise! They're vanishing by the day!"

"I'm not convinced you have _ever_ had the correct amount of marbles. But it's ok to be thinking about Potter a bit. God knows I'm thinking about Pansy almost every second that I'm awake." He gave an elegant shrug. "Its unstoppable."

Unstoppable? As though I would still be seeing Potter's face in my dreams in a year's time? In _ten_ year's time? I wouldn't be one of _those_ people. The sappy ones who mooned around all day because they were all caught up in stupid romance daydreams.

That would _not_ be me.

"That doesn't have to be you," Blaise snapped when I ran this past him. "But to be honest, you're already there mate. Merlin knows you haven't spoken about anything but Potter in _weeks_."

I dismissed Blaise by wrenching the drapes around my bed closed.

~O~

Harry Potter was simultaneously the best and worst dream I could possibly have. I needed to sleep, not to spend all night worrying and fantasising. Images of potion books, the lake, Harry and I, cake – it was on a loop behind my eyes, playing over and over again. I needed to rest – not wank.

I rolled over and hit my pillow a few times, pretending it was Weaselette. In my Potter-addled state, it didn't help very much.

His face – glorious, rugged and shining – made my yearning-for-sleep brain tingle and my very-awake-cock burn like crazy. It was two o'clock in the bloody morning and I was being kept awake by the mere image of someone. Merlin help me.

Blaise was right. I was turning into one of _those_ people.

My hand sneaked its way under the blankets before I could gather some self restraint. Maybe this could be classed as an extreme circumstance. It sure felt like one.

No. I was _not_ going to wank when I was only feet away a probably-still-awake Blaise. It was non-negotiable. I would wait it out for the whole night rather than admit I had let Harry Potter dissolve my self control. I was not a thirteen-year-old boy.

Refusing to go lower than my stomach, I raked my fingers lightly across my lower ribs, imagining Harry's hand instead of my own. The shivers of pleasure made my back arch embarrassingly off the bed. I was also sure I had no lower lip left, I was biting it so hard.

_Think about potions_, I told myself sternly, gripping the sheets in desperation. _Think about brewing...something_. Like Amortentia. Or Lust potions. Good old fashioned Stimulants. Damn.

As if I needed any more stimulants than I had right now. The muscles in my lower body were screaming at me. Alright, so potions were a no-go. How about something tamer like...food. Food was a safe subject. After a few seconds of: _Sandwiches, Apples, Toast_, _Roast beef_ – I let out a sigh of relief. There was nothing sexy about food. Nothing at all.

_Pudding_. _Treacle tart. Harry eating treacle tart. Me feeding Harry treacle tart. Me licking_ –

Fuck. With the whimper of a broken man, I leapt out of bed. The problem was now so painful, I had to hop rather than run to the bathroom before slamming the door shut. Who really cared if it woke everyone up? This was a national emergency.

A pathetically short amount of time later, I sat on the white stone floor with my legs drawn tightly up to my chest. The only emotion other than sated I was feeling was stunned. I had wanked over Harry only twice since discovering I liked him. Both had been guiltily done in the shower with the assertion of how very wrong it was. Now though...did thinking about licking treacle tart off Harry Potter's naked chest really just give me the best orgasm of my life?

Pansy was always telling me, albeit jokingly, how much of a messed up wizard I was. Maybe she did have gift as a potential seer. If the me from a year ago had seen what I had just done, whispering Harry's name a little frantically at the end, he probably would have AK-ed himself. That was how far I had come this year. I was now not only openly gay but I had a celebrity crush – something I had sworn would never develop – for the Dark Lord's arch nemesis Harry bloody Potter.

A boy who, I was beginning to see, was the only one is the world I wanted to be with, sworn enemy or not.

I almost threw up on myself for thinking that. When had the magical transformation from Pureblood Idol to Ponsy Idiot taken place? After this whole thing was over I would join the Hufflepuffs. I'd fit right in.

~O~

We all got up an hour earlier the next morning. And when I say 'we' got up, I mean that _Pansy_ got up. When Pansy is excited, her internal alarm system kicks in and the side effects happen to affect Blaise and I. And Theo, Crabbe and Goyle as well I suppose, as they share the dorm, but mainly us.

And so it was that with a swish of black hair and a continuous hum of excitement, an annoyingly awake Pansy bounded into our room at the ungodly hour of...whatever time it was. Before seven.

I squinted at her with squinty eyes. Even through the darkness of the room I could make out her luminous grin. Too early, much too early...

"Pan-sy," I croaked, my voice hoarse from sleep. "No... Too early...leave..._gah_!" The feeling of a small body launching itself onto my bed brought me back to full consciousness.

She helped herself to my covers, exposing my feet to the chilly dungeon air. "_Bon jure_," she purred, mockingly seductive. "Did someone order a _wakeup_ call?" She gave me a slow wink then laughed as I tried hopelessly to kick her off.

"No I bloody didn't," I grumbled, trying to yank the blankets out from under her. "Go _away_!"

"That's no way to talk to your best friend," she tusked.

"I'm not awake enough to be held accountable for anything I happen to say or do in the next few minutes." Like hexing her. Sending her flying out of the dorm to land on her tiny Slytherin butt in the corridor.

A truly pitiful moan came from Theo's bed. "...What time is it?"

Pansy coughed something that sounded suspiciously like _five_. When I spluttered at her, ready to transform into the it's-before-ten-o'clock-so-leave-me-the-hell-alone raving lunatic I had been known upon occasion to become, she held up a finger in a placating way. "Not _five_, Draco – God, who do you think I am? It's only _half_ five. And besides, we need this time to figure out what you're going to wear."

"Today for school?" I said murderously. "I was thinking school uniform. You know, the one I wear every day."

I tried irritably to fall back to sleep, but not before I caught the disparaging glance Pansy shot me. "No," she said, pinching me until I opened my eyes again. "For _after_ school. For your date." On the word 'date' her eyes lit up completely and she leapt off the bed, doing an over-theatrical twirl.

I had been thinking about this long and hard before I finally fell asleep last night. Thinking of our meeting today as a 'date' would only disappoint me in the long run when Potter turned up carrying potions books and not a bunch of roses.

"It's not a date."

"It is too a date. He asked you to teach him Potions which coming from someone like Potter is practically a marriage proposal."

"Pansy," I hissed, slowly losing the will to live. "When Potter asked for Potions lessons he actually meant _Potions lessons_. Ok? Not sex, not dating, not a commitment, not anything."

She took my face into her warm hands. "Draco," she said kindly, "you are really incredibly stupid."

Seriously, this is the best I can do in the way of friends.

"Will you two _shut up_?" a pillow came sailing at us from a nearby bed. "I'm trying to _sleep_." Apart from Blaise, of course, Blaise was great.

After Pansy had wondered over to his bed however, my opinion of him changed. Anyone who yells that loudly should be arrested. "_GAHHHH!_ _Pansy – what the hell_!"

I leapt almost a foot off my bed at Blaise's yowling sound, heart about to explode. Why were all my friends such raving lunatics? Couldn't we ever have a nice normal morning? Getting dowsed with water one day, woken at five the next and now this screaming business... If you're getting _murdered_, you scream. If you're being _robbed_, you scream. Hell, you can even scream if you want ice-cream. But you do not scream when someone whips off your duvet cover.

Oh. _Oh_. Who stole Blaise's pyjamas?

I placed a hand over my eyes in horrified annoyance.

"Blaise," I snapped, tapping into my pre-coffee monster. I couldn't hold back the whiney quality to my voice. "I wanted _Harry_ to be the first one I saw naked. Not. You."

"My eyes!" Pansy was shrieking hysterically, running in small circles, as Blaise wrenched his covers back up to his blushing face. "My innocence is corrupted! I'm blind, I'm blind! Draco, where are you, I can't see you –"

I ignored her as I needed a moment to think. I mean, I've seen guys naked before. I do take showers every Tuesday after Quidditch practices and stuff. But as I've been skiving off for the last two weeks to avoid Flint and usually I shower while the rest of the guys are still sleeping –

"I'll never be able to see again! It's burnt onto my retinas, it's scarred my fragile and delicate mind, its –"

– Not as if I _minded_ seeing another guy in the flesh. But this would be the first time seeing it as a gay man – to appreciate what I was seeing. It was all 'AH' to me now – After Harry. And no, I absolutely wasn't looking at Blaise – please, I'm not perverted. I was totally one hundred percent neutral. And maybe a little curious.

...But can't one be neutral and curious?

I snuck a peak around my fingers even as Pansy bounded past me shrieking. Too late. Blaise had whipped on a pair of pants faster than you could say 'Quidditch'. I was annoyed, and then shocked with myself for being annoyed. God, what was I turning into? My hormones were out of control.

" – can't believe you don't wear pants to bed! It's illegal to do that you know – it's illegal!"

"It's not illegal," I grumbled, while personally thinking: _it should be_.

Pansy pulled a disgusted face. "It should be illegal. Oh the humiliation..."

"For the love of..." it looked like there was no getting around it now. I had to get out of bed. My warm, lovely, finally Pansy-free bed. "I'm over here, corrupted one." I straightened up and pulled Pansy into a headlock. "No need to be afraid of the naked Blaise. He's more afraid of you than you are of...it."

It took a very small amount these days to set the two of us off. Call it high emotions, call it a collection of blond moments, call it whatever you want. We dissolved into laughter with an ease that comes with long practice.

"Please feel free to laugh," Blaise said sarcastically, still a wonderfully bright pink. "Aren't you two up ridiculously early for a _reason_? Hypnotising Potter with something that I, apparently, know nothing about? What was it called now...'fashion'?"

"Don't be sour," I said cheerily. It's weird how hilarious other people's humiliation can be sometimes. One simple error of not wearing pants to bed and _bam!_ Your girlfriend and gay best friend can barely breathe for laughing at you.

"And by the way," I said to Pansy, sobered up and wiping my eyes delicately, "you catch sight of your boyfriend in his birthday suit – shouldn't you be ogling, not screaming? If I ever saw Potter when he was naked, I..."

In hindsight, I'm quite glad that the real end of that sentence was never formed.

I had trailed off on noticing Pansy's demonic smirk and Blaise's half laughing, half scornful expression.

"...I would have snapped a picture for the _Daily Prophet_?" I tried hopefully.

"Oh my dear, sweet, naive Draco. The only reason I'm not going to punish you for that lie is that you look pathetically sentimental," Pansy told me kindly.

"Yeah Draco, I'm not sure whether to make fun of that or not," Blaise said with a grin.

I was surprise and touched. Blaise took the piss out of nearly everything anyone did – how nice of him to momentarily exclude me from that. "Because on the one hand," he waved one slowly at me, "your sappy facial expression makes me feel not only mildly compassionate but also unwilling to tease you."

I didn't respond to this, too busy trying to manipulate my 'sappy' face into something more masculine.

"However on the other hand, you have given me really disturbing mental images. I _don't_ need to be thinking about a naked Harry Potter right now. Or ever," he added at Pansy's worried look. "So I'm willing to make as many jokes as I can about it as a suitable penalty."

I suspected I had heard the majority of said jokes before. "Knock yourself out," I said compliantly.

"But you did help me out with Pansy," he said thoughtfully. "And I guess I did promise to help you. Alright, forget what's in my hands." He shook them both as though shaking off old ideas. "A new hand," he said grandly, taking one of Pansy's into his own tan ones. "And the hand says..."

He paused dramatically. I glanced at Pansy, wondering if she had known what she was getting into when she kissed Blaise. She shrugged.

"The hand says it will help you."

I sat for a moment feeling perplexed.

I guess I shouldn't really be surprised by the weirdness of it. Some people would say: 'sure, I'll help you out Draco' or 'no worries Draco, you can count on me.' Blaise? Blaise went for the hand metaphor.

"Right," I said slowly, edging a little further away from them both. "Well...say thanks to the hand from me."

We sat listening to Theo's snores for a few moments.

As I had suspected it would be, it was Pansy who finally broke the silence. "Look, I have no idea what either of you are saying. No – don't tell it again," she said as Blaise held up a hand. "I don't care about that. What I want to know is this: Draco, when can I start dressing you up?"

Within two seconds of me giving her the go-ahead, Pansy was already a blur of activity inside my trunk, hands sifting through my shirts, robes and cloaks.

The day of ultimate agony had begun.

~O~

"What would you say is the most embarrassing thing you've ever said to Potter?" Blaise asked professionally. After he had curled back into bed again, a quill and parchment had found their way into his hands. This was roughly the time when Pansy started ordering me to strip off and change clothes. I stood shivering in my underwear and the thin t-shirt she had allowed me.

I wasn't sure I liked Blaise-the-therapist anymore that Pansy-the-manic-stylist.

The most embarrassing thing I'd said to Potter?

"Where to begin?" I muttered, a pink hue working up my neck.

"Blurting out that you liked him was probably the worst move," Pansy suggested as she threw a few more of my clothes onto the bed. "Or kissing him."

"No, when he allowed himself to get trapped into the Potions cupboard alone with Potter. That was just plain stupid."

"Or maybe –"

"Yes, _thank_ you," I said sullenly. I didn't like this game. "Just put down whatever Blaise. There are too many answers to that question."

"Alright, next question. What would you say is the weirdest physical compulsion you've had in Potter's presence?"

I was taken aback by the question even if I shouldn't have been. Maybe Blaise _should_ pursue a job in therapy.

"Licking his fingers, hugging him after the Boggart and then running my fingers through his hair during the hug." I said it all quickly, as Pansy forced a beige shirt I didn't even know that I owed over my head. "Nothing else."

"Well you did kiss him. And when he pinned you to that silly wall you did get –"

"_Hey_!" We were not discussing that. No way in hell were we discussing that. "_Next question_."

Pansy sniggered before tossing the beige shirt into the 'no' pile.

"What part of Potter is most...attractive?" He pulled a face as he said it, as if he couldn't imagine how any part of Potter could be seen as eye-catching. I couldn't imagine a part of Potter that wasn't attractive.

"His eyes definitely. No, his cheekbones. No, wait, his mouth. That's my final answer. Or maybe his hair –"

"Ok." Blaise made a note. "His head area."

There was absolutely no need to look at me that way. Potter's 'head area' was the only thing that wasn't covered up with ridiculous and unnecessary clothing. The Potter sans clothes was one I was unfamiliar with. Regrettably.

We had to stop for a while as Pansy insisted she needed my input on the clothes front. What a fun task that was.

"What's wrong with wearing the blue ones?" Pansy barked, shaking the robes at me threateningly. "They're gorgeous and the colour matches your eyes."

I glared at the sapphire robes, quelling the urge to rip them out of her manicured hands.

"My eyes are grey. I'll be wearing the grey ones thanks." The robes I was holding were softer, nicer and more expensive. Why shouldn't I wear them?

"You'd look like a glossy brochure for some cheap holiday resort nobody would ever go to. You'll be wearing the blue ones."

Forget taking it off her, I was ready to strangle her with that robe. I should have known to just accept whatever her judgement decided – but when have I ever?

"The thing you're holding is the most horrible thing I own – he'd want to laugh at me, not shag me. Blaise, you're a guy, tell her."

Blaise was acting as our unofficial umpire, still sprawled on his bed and watching us bicker. The entire contents of my wardrobe was scattered around him and his only contribution thus far had been sniggering, asking more questions and rolling his eyes. In other words: no help at all.

He looked up from his parchment and sighed. "It's just a set of robes."

See what I mean?

"It's not _just a set of robes_," Pansy trilled, hugging the blue cloak to her chest and doing a slow waltz around the dorm with it. "This is the robe that Potter will soon be ripping off our dear friend's body. This is the shirt that has to sell the product of what's underneath it, make Potter daydream about seeing past the flimsy fabric. These are the trousers that will hug Draco's arse and either make or break Harry and Draco's _whole relationship_ Blaise. That is why it is important." With every declaration she took a slow ominous step forwards until she was standing before him. She threw the shirt, catching him full in the face.

After he had extricated himself, Blaise began a sarcastic applause. "Pansy, you should be on the stage."

She grinned and flicked her hair. "I know. Actually now I think about it, this shirt does suck. Turquoise – I don't know what I was thinking. What else have we got Draco?" She paused. "Um, Draco?"

I guess my eyes must have glazed over or something. There sure felt pretty glazed.

"Draco?"

"D?"

"Stop badgering me! I can't make this decision, it's too difficult." I sank slowly onto the bed next to Blaise, uncaring that I was crinkling half my clothes.

"Not you too," Blaise groaned, giving me a pleading look. "That's one friend, one girlfriend and _my sanity_ that I've lost to fashion this morning. It's just a stupid shirt."

I stared at him. "Did you not just hear the speech? This decides mine and Harry's _whole relationship_. How could I pick something like _this_," I crumpled the green shirt into a ball and threw it aside, "when my future happiness hangs on it?"

Pansy nodded sagely. "I'm glad you now understand how important this is. Now, how do you feel about salmon?"

"Pans, stop," Said Blaise firmly. "I love you, but right now you're talking out of your arse. And Draco, how could you possibly think Potter would judge you on what you wear? He's an ignorant Gryffindor, appearances barely register to him."

Pansy and I both spluttered in protest.

"No, listen to me," he insisted, pulling me back onto the bed when I showed signs of getting up. "Harry Potter really isn't going to care what you wear tonight. It's not a black tie occasion and he isn't expecting dress robes – "

"Ooh, dress robes!" Pansy squealed before she could stop herself. Seeing Blaise's less than impressed expression, she made a mime of zipping up her mouth. I noticed privately that she did not throw away the key.

"As I was saying... Draco, you always do this. You get needlessly upset over the little things. Hell, you could wear _this_ and he wouldn't mind." He was holding up my pyjama top.

"Ha bloody ha," I said, blushing hotly and snatching the top out of his hands. It was a white muggle t-shirt sporting a faded dragon on the front. In smoky lettering beneath it read: 'fancy taming my dragon?'

Don't think badly of me, ok? I only have it because...well because it's the most comfortable thing I have ever owned, muggle-made or not. The fabric is like heaven. I'm not stupid enough to wear it at home or on the weekends but at night... Like I said, don't judge me.

Pansy's face once more looked bright as a button. "Hey, Blaise, that's actually a good idea!"

I wondered what I had missed out of the conversation this time. She couldn't be referencing the dragon shirt, she just couldn't be...no Pansy, no...

"Wear that one! The dragon shirt! It combines two of Potter's best qualities – taming dragons and strange muggle clothes!"

We argued about it all the way down to breakfast, swapping barbs about each other's taste and calling on Blaise to assist our opinions.

"Alright, _fine_," I snarled, all three of us pausing to let the Ravenclaws past. "But I'm only trusting you with this decision because – well I don't know why. I suppose you've annoyed me into submission."

"My good taste is indisputable," she agreed, giving me a graciously delicate hug. "And just between you and me, since you told us about Potter I always had you pegged for the..._submissive_."

"You – hey!"

She patted me on the face and followed Blaise into the hall, catching his hand up in hers. "Don't worry about it darling. You still have a very manly charm."

And this is how I ended up wearing my old bed shirt to the lake.

~O~

"I've come up with a cunning plan to not only get Potter into a successful relationship with you but to also avoid humiliation." I kid you not, that was Blaise's announcement. He even looked proud of himself.

I wondered briefly why I was the only one laughing.

"Do you want it or not?" he said, sounding put out. "It's fool-proof."

"Yes, but is it Draco-proof?" Pansy asked, saying aloud what any sensible person would be thinking. "Because just making it fool-proof won't be enough. This boy has a gift," She patted my cheek, "for attracting trouble."

Blaise smirked at us both. "If he follows this, the only one he'll be attracting is Harry Potter."

I couldn't deny that it did sound good.

"Ok Zabini, lay it on me."

"That's what she said." Theo plopped down next to Pansy and grinned sleepily at us. He noticed Pansy glaring at him. "Inappropriate?"

"Just eat your toast Theodore."

I pulled the parchment full of Blaise's scribbles towards me, intending to read/devour anything useful. My eyes ghosted over the page with confusion. There were arrows and crossings out, footnotes and spider diagrams. I tried to follow one of the numerous arrows with my eyes but was still lost within seconds.

Was this what it was like to be inside Blaise's head?

"Give that to me," Blaise instructed, whipping it out of my hands. "Patience is a virtue, Draco."

"Yes and so is good handwriting. What does it say?"

He gave me the one fingered salute but cleared his throat anyway. "First of all," he said, and I wondered when Blaise's voice had become so deep and full of authority. A bit like Harry's, only Harry's was nicer. "You have to stop letting Potter consume your thoughts. Stop with the mental comparisons to Potter – no, shut up, we all know about it – and if your thoughts do slip in that direction, think about something else."

"Why?" I demanded, folding my arms. I hoped the folded arms thing made me look indignant in a manly way and not a childish way. "He's not a mind reader, he won't know and neither will anyone else."

"He will know," Pansy chipped in. "Your nose scrunches up when you're emotional – which you _are_ when you think about Potter – and you blush. Do you really want that to be the lasting impression he has of you?"

Twitchy nose and red faced?

I subtly glanced over at the Gryffindor table, eyes heading for Harry's usual seat, noting he wasn't down to breakfast yet. Did he oversleep? Was he ill? Yes, maybe he was so ill he wouldn't be able to come to our –

Oh, wait. There he was, sitting four seats to the left. Next to...

"That bloody _Weaselette_." Or, should I say, my new arch rival. Who did she think she was, pawing at him like that? She just couldn't leave him alone to eat his breakfast could she?

"Secondly, you're going to _stop glaring at his girlfriend_." The piece of breadstick Blaise had thrown at me bounced off my forehead. I'm glad no one saw that. "Don't play into her hands Draco. And Potter's not going to be impressed if you're muttering curses and trying to hit her in corridors –"

"She hit me first!"

" – he'll be more impressed if you take the moral high ground. Gryfindorks love a good moral high ground don't they? This one is yours. No calling her names, making fun of that mangy orange hair or...anything else. Be good."

'Good' flew in the face of everything that I naturally was! I was inherently bad – one of the worst people I knew. Harry was the good one. The light to my dark, so to speak.

"Be honest," Pansy intoned, stealing my bacon. "Relationships are built on honesty and trust. Well, except ours." She grabbed Blaise's hand. I didn't want to think about what she might be doing _under_ the table to give him that expression. Yuk.

"But lie when it benefits you," Blaise said, still making eyes at Pansy. "For example, tell him you like what he's wearing."

"Complement him, but not too much. Don't start drooling because that's pathetic."

"Be polite. Say please, thank you, sorry etc. He won't be expecting it from you because you are fundamentally rude to him."

"Let him make the first move. You've done your fair share of kissing and hugging – now let him come to you."

"But don't be distant – he has to know you want it."

"Make small talk –"

"– without killing the romantic mood."

I sat incredibly still, trying to take it all in. Their suggestions were _ludicrous_. "So what you're saying," I said slowly, "Is that I need to be honest, but I'm also allowed to lie; complement him without actually saying anything complementary; to be polite without being needy; talk about boring things without being boring and to let him know I want him while still playing hard to get?"

They beamed at me. I felt like hitting them.

Blaise thrust the doodle-filled parchment back into my hands. "You were looking at the wrong side of the page, dumbass," he said affectionately. "The secret way to getting Potter is on the _other_ side."

I flipped the page over hastily, heart beating quickly in my chest. The answer that Blaise had promised came in the form of three scribbled words.

Three _useless_ scribbled words.

"'_Just be yourself'_?" I asked incredulously, all hope flying out of the proverbial window. "That's the biggest load of –"

"Don't you get it Draco?" Pansy asked me, sounding as if it was blatantly obvious. I still wanted to hit her. "What Blaise and I were trying to tell you is that there _is_ no magic formula. There is no perfect way to woo somebody – it happens through the little things. A lingering touch, a heated look, a sense of humour..."

My face felt frozen, power of speech abruptly gone. They had fucking _tricked_ me into a false sense of security.

"There is no methodical way for you to win Potter over, Draco." She placed a tiny hand on my shoulder. "If he's going to fall in love with you at all, it's going to be with the scatty, neurotic, wonderful person that you are with us," She motioned to herself, Theo and Blaise. "The one he's only just getting to know. The weirdo who sucks his fingers halfway through a fight and laughs at all the wrong moments."

Oh. Of course now I thought about it, to somebody like _Pansy_ it would all be kind of...obvious. The whole 'love can't be planned' thing. I still would have much preferred a formula.

"Alright, I get it," I sighed, fiddling with the table cloth. "I've just got to be myself."

"Exactly!" Pansy gave me a one-armed hug, her other hand still joined to Blaise's. "All the little things you do naturally are what make it happen. I mean, you still managed to fall in love with Potter when he has hair like a birds nest, clothes from a buy-n-fly sale and –"

_What?_ She stopped talking at my terrified look.

...Love? _Love_?

I wasn't – I couldn't possibly be – no. No I definitely wasn't in love with him. I wasn't. Because I would have known, right? Somewhere in the transition from enemy to fantasy-boyfriend I would have felt a change. And I hadn't felt any major change. I felt _passion_ and _lust_ and _attraction_.

Not...the other thing.

"Of course I'm not in love with him!"

Pansy gave me a look of offended dignity while Blaise offered one of sympathy. "Yes you are," she said. "Of course you are. We all know it."

"I'm – you're wrong – not –" The words stuck in my mouth, unable to get out, as my tongue tied itself into knots. Easy Draco, just keep calm. No need to let the lie affect you. I took all the emotion out of my voice.

"I don't have to listen to this." I snatched up a waffle and stood up. I didn't need to sit here and eat my breakfast with liars. Because that's what they were: _liars_.

They called after me as I sprinted out of the Great Hall. A lot of _Draco, wait_ and _Draco, please_. Stupid friends, they had no idea. Just because _they_ were in love did that give them the right to force it on me too?

Did they even realise what that one four letter word meant?

Love was – was like _surrender_.

It meant giving way your heart completely to another person. It allowed that person to see you at your best but also at your most vulnerable. It made you tell them the secrets that no one should ever know except you.

I wasn't going to surrender. Not to anyone.

I took a few long deep breaths through my nose. Despite the momentary panic, everything was going to be ok – because of course I _wasn't_ in love with Harry. Absolutely nothing had changed. I was still meeting with Potter after school. I wanted to know him better and to shag him. Kiss him. Date him. Love had nothing to do with it.

I was muttering this to myself as I entered double charms, though still saving Pansy and Blaise their customary seats. I wasn't mad at them really. They were only looking out for me after all. Pansy had just made a girly mistake – everything in her head was centred on love, makeup and fashion.

In the last few days, she had managed to fit me into every category.

~O~

Charms was abysmal. The time went so slowly I was almost weeping – or clawing out my eyes.

I mean, Lengthening charms – really? When would I ever need that?

I scowled at my piece of string, watching it flop off the table as it grew. This wasn't challenging. Staying awake in this pointless lesson, that was challenging.

I guess I might have been feeling the _tiniest_ amount of stress. I couldn't unclench my hands from the desk and my leg was jumping irritably. Maybe I was thinking about Harry a little bit too much. I wondered intently why Harry hadn't taken Charms... if he had the empty seat in front of me would have been filled with a gorgeous dark haired boy instead of air. My thoughts kept playing this tune for the whole of the double period. I guess it didn't help that the corridor outside was the scene of the first major cock up. That kiss.

Is it weird to miss someone you used to hate?

~O~

Pansy caught up to me before I made it to Transfiguration. Though we had been seated next to each other for over an hour this morning, we hadn't spoken since breakfast. I got the feeling she was building up her words.

"Draco – "

"I forgive you Pansy."

"I wasn't about to say sorry."

Her arm had somehow linked through mine and she leant comfortably on my shoulder.

"Oh. Well... I retract my forgiveness."

I've figured out now that God enjoys messing with my life. It's simply not _nice_ how many times I manage to get it wrong. Wrong about the Dark Lord, wrong about Potter and now about Pansy too? Surely something has to give.

"No, I'll keep the forgiveness if you don't mind." She had managed to hook her bag over my shoulder effortlessly so I was carrying her things as well as my own. I could concede that it was masterfully done. "And I want a nice long apology for what a moody and unsociable boy you are. And you have to buy me a milkshake in Hogsmeade."

I shook my head disbelievingly. She smiled innocently back. "Too far?"

"Just a little – you know I would never buy you a milkshake." I buy the ice-cream, Blaise buys the chocolate and Pansy gets the milkshakes. "And I am _not_ moody and unsociable. I may be standoffish in the polite way...as a matter of dignity. But I'm not moody."

"He says _moodily_."

Some days it's just not worth getting out of bed. Like today. Except later today would hopefully be worth everything.

"You're not really angry with me are you?"

Sometimes the naivety of my peers amazed even me. Did I look mad? Was my aura black? Did I have swear words tattooed on my face? We had reached the transfiguration classroom at last, joining in the back of the small scrum waiting outside it.

"Considering that I'm walking with you to our next class, carrying your bag, telling you I forgive you and all the rest of it I'd say...no. Definitely not mad."

"I think that statement is up for negotiation," a sneering voice intoned, stepping out from around Longbottom. It _would_ just have to be Weasley wouldn't it? I couldn't ever have a stress-free day. The idiot hadn't healed his face from our brawl yesterday and so a purple-black cheek and eye greeted me.

_Suck it up Draco_.

"Negotiation, Weasley? A big word for you." The words fell uncomfortably from my lips.

Weasley stalked closer, face pink, ears red.

"A girl's bag, Malfoy?" He flicked at a tassel on Pansy's purple handbag, still looped over my shoulder. Though I myself looked fondly on new fashions, I had to admit that the purple beaded thing on my arm made me look ten times more camp than I was. "We already know how much you're in touch with your _feminine_ side."

Finnegan snorted with laughter. I kept my face coolly impassive and was surprised when Pansy restrained herself as well. She might as well have been carved from stone.

"Maybe I am. And speaking on behalf of fashionable people everywhere Weasel-bee, orange doesn't suit you."

The insult felt...wrong. Too much effort for something so little. What was up with that?

It was then that I noticed Harry, standing slightly off from Weasley. He was leaning against the wall with Granger, the pair of them eyeing us intently. Granger was whispering.

Weasley blinked at us indignantly but didn't seem to be able to say anything more. Having his taste in fashion insulted was something I was sure he had never experienced before. I am all about fresh material.

Pansy used our still linked arms to pull me gently into classroom.

We passed by Harry and Granger quietly. Or at least, being sensible, I did. Pansy slowed down until we were at a completely stop in front of them. "Oh come off it," I muttered, whether to her or to some higher power, I wasn't sure.

Ignoring the one third of Golden Trio still seething behind us, she replaced the stony look with a much more frightening one. "Hey Gryffindors," she said. "How's it going?" And she was wearing her serious face too. A tiny part of me died.

"Oh, um...good...thanks Parkinson." Granger looked astonished, like a dog had started talking to her. There was a small silence in which none of us spoke and the people outside looked at us, alarmed. Granger seemed not to know how to take this new development. Thankfully, manners won out. "So...How are you?"

I hadn't noticed that Pansy was tensed until I felt her arm relax under mine. "Oh we're fine. Charms was a bitch but then I slept through most of it." I watched Granger flinch a little at the language and then recover herself. "I'll get Draco to catch me up on what I missed. He's oddly proficient at lengthening charms, aren't you?" her elbow caught me in the ribs and made me wince. "Merlin knows you could do with a lengthening charm!"

Both Granger's and Harry's eyebrows shot up.

My throat appeared to have closed up a little too much for coherency. "I don't need to use – I would never – I don't –"

Pansy, at my stuttering, seemed only then to cotton on to what was going on in their warped little minds. The temperature of my face began pushing a thousand degrees. From the image that she had put there and in everyone else's head too I might just say.

"Not like that!" She insisted. "God, get your mind out of the gutter people, I meant height-wise. He's very obviously vertically challenged. There's nothing wrong with his –"

Ok, so maybe the push I gave her was a little hard, but it was justified. It was either that or stun her.

Granger gave us a hesitant smile, showing she wasn't all as uptight as she pretended. But then, neither was Pansy. It was I who was as tightly coiled as a spring. And Harry was...

I glanced at him hastily, realising that for a few moments all my attention had been focused on the exchange between my friend and his, and not on Potter himself. He was looking at the three of us amusedly. And smiling. Smiling at the weird exchange between one girl and another. Smiling at _me_.

"Hiya Malfoy."

Was that all it took now, one _Hiya Malfoy_? I was feeling dizzy. Who even said 'hiya' anymore anyway? Fuck, he had dimples.

"Hi Potter." Yes that's right, said without overt blushing, and not even a shaky voice. I was surprised too. I wished I hadn't noticed those dimples though.

He didn't say anything else and I didn't think I could if I'd tried. I was vaguely aware that people were moving between us and filing into the classroom but _bloody hell_ if those weren't the greenest eyes I had ever seen...

I yelped as Pansy wrenched me towards our seats. Blaise was already sitting down, books out and quill ready. He gave me a look that I didn't like one bit. "_I'm not in love with him_," Blaise whined in a _rubbish_ imitation of my voice. "My arse you're not."

~O~

To my surprise – no scratch that, to my absolute mortification – Pansy and Granger were all over each other for the next hour. Granger had taken a seat next to Pansy, and anytime she wasn't listening to McGonagall speak, her ear was turned in Pansy's direction.

I clung to Blaise for dear life.

"What is she doing?" I said, already highly suspicious of body snatchers, polyjuice and the imperious. "Has she gone _completely_ mental?"

Pansy laughed at something Granger said, making exaggerated hand gestures in her agreement. I cringed back into my seat. Pansy and Granger! In what sort of imaginary universe could that possibly happen?

"I think they're bonding," said Blaise, tongue between teeth as he tried to transfigure his matchstick into a needle. The match set itself spitefully on fire for the forth time.

"Bonding?" I asked worriedly, nudging my own work with the tip of my wand. The lesson had been on transfiguring metals and each of us had a different task. The small scrap of paper sitting sadly in front of me was supposed to be turning into a coin. So far it had crumpled itself into a ball and turned brown.

"Yeah. You know the 'my friend fancies your friend so why don't we be mates' kind of thing that girls do. Hey, reckon I should have a go with Weasley?"

I snorted. Weasley was sitting with Harry and Granger but as far as possible from Pansy. Harry was talking to him occasionally and I found myself wondering why he bothered. I was as fond of Pansy and Blaise as much as anyone could be and even I knew when to leave them alone. Weasley was at the peak of his sulking and the sensible thing to do would be to hit him with a tranquiliser dart.

"What about Potter, can I bond with him?"

I shook my head, smiling slightly, until Harry looked round at us both. "Did someone say my name?"

I jerked my head around so fast it audibly clicked and I had to seize hold of it with both hands. _Holy mother of Merlin_ I was now surely crippled for life. I glared up at Potter furiously until I saw the amused glance had melted into a concerned one.

"You alright?" I hastily stopped massaging my neck and dropped both hands back to the desk.

"Oh yeah. You know, just working on...this." I tried not to wince too much as I turned my head to pick up the brown ball of paper. It now had several scorch marks in it from further failed attempts.

"And your neck?"

"It's fine, how's yours?"

Yep, there was the grin. White teeth, pale pink lips and those bloody perfect dimples. I was so screwed.

"Look, you want to switch seats Potter? I wouldn't mind sitting next to my girlfriend." Couldn't Blaise just go away? Just for a little while? What if Harry blanched and said no? What if he said yes and then ridiculed my crappy attempts at transfiguring the paper? Surely he wouldn't believe that was the real reason why Blaise wanted to swap and then –

"Sure, just give me a second."

Or not. Within two minutes, Blaise was shifting out of his seat with a wink and a 'don't mess up'. Harry moved into the empty chair inelegantly, shoving his bag under the table with a clumsiness that wasn't endearing. While he was slinging his robe over the back of his chair, his wand rolled slowly off the table and hit the floor with a shower of sparks.

He blushed and bent to retrieve it. My hand shot out and beat him to the finish. See, why couldn't it make as much effort with the snitch?

Having Potter's wand in my hand was odd. It was discoloured from dust so much that you could make out individual fingerprints on the handle. It was almost humming with magic as I twirled it between my fingers, warm and strong, like it's owner.

The urge to try a spell with it was becoming more pronounced the longer I held it and I glanced at Harry to see if he objected. His eyes were riveted on my hand and I realised I had been absent-mindedly stroking my thumb over the base. I stopped quickly.

I murmured a childish spell under my breath, pointing the wand tip at the table. A little smoke creature emerged from the tip and flew two laps around the desk. It reared its head at Harry and then dissipated in a handful of sparks. Pretty unimpressive.

Harry's eyes were shifting between the small scorch mark on the desk where the spell had been and my hand still wrapped around his wand.

He caught it with one hand as I threw it back to him and looked down at the wood with a strange expression on his face. He pushed up his sleeves distractedly and cleared his throat. Out of sheer awkwardness more than a desire to work, I began trying to change my paper to metal again.

"_Chalybs_," I said clearly, giving the annoyingly _brown_ ball of parchment a jab. The thing let out a noise like teeth grinding and threw itself off the desk.

This time it was Harry who reached down to pick it up, his eyes brighter than ever. He set it down on my desk with a smirk which I all at once loathed and cherished.

"Let's see your attempt then _Potter_."

I didn't mean to put as much emphasis on the name as what I did, but I had been one millisecond away from calling him Harry. It came out of my lips sounding challenging and confident instead and I hastily raised an eyebrow to match.

Harry had – in my opinion – a much easier task than me. Turning string into steel wire? Please, I could have done that with my eyes closed. Probably. Ok, maybe not. It was still easier than mine though.

"_Chalybs_," he whispered and I crossed my fingers under the desk that he wouldn't get it right and make me look like an idiot. He didn't. "It did go grey though," he said defensively, showing me the string. "And it feels a bit harder than before."

The hardness I could vouch for, though not in connection with the string.

My next spell tore the parchment in half. Potter's string managed to tie itself in a knot that he had to spend several minutes unpicking. I couldn't help sniggering as his next attempt yielded the same result with a tighter knot.

"Aha," I said triumphantly after my seventh attempt, forgetting momentarily who I was with and nudging Harry in the ribs. "I've done it. Yes! I finally beat you to something Potter!" This would have been the perfect place for a victory dance. Absolutely perfect.

"That's a coin?" Harry asked sceptically, eyeing my masterpiece dubiously.

I held the creation to my chest, almost offended. If it hadn't been Harry and if his incredulous expression wasn't as handsome as any other...I might have given him a piece of my mind.

I handed over my coin, dropping it into the palm of him hand. And if you're wondering why I didn't use this opportunity to have a little skin on skin contact here there are two very simple answers. One, I am not that desperate for attention that I need to paw at him pathetically. If that was the case, I wouldn't mess about trying the gaze our fingers together. I would just grab his hand and shove it down my pants. But, like I said, I'm not that pathetic. The second reason is that touching Harry makes all the blood leave my head. And it goes...well you know where it goes.

"It's got creases in it," Harry said, as if this proved some sort of point.

I grabbed his string and held it between my thumb and forefinger. A little while ago Harry had managed to make it almost stiffen into real wire before subsequently undoing all his work by not concentrating.

"It's better that yours though."

"It is not! I actually managed to do it before."

"Yeah, exactly, _before_. Mine is a coin _now_."

"If 'coin' is the right word for it."

"Potter –"

The bell rang. As though the sudden sound broke the tension between us, we both grinned at each other a little sheepishly and exchanged our work back without saying anything. I tucked the coin into my pocket and Harry chucked the string in his bag.

"Until five o'clock, Malfoy."

"Don't forget your books Potter."

~O~

"Pansy...are you _sure_ about this?"

"Ask me one more time and you'll be walking to your date with Potter on broken legs." When my gaze was unrelenting she gripped my shoulders and gave me a small shake. "You look wonderful, gorgeous, and incredible. You're the hottest best friend I've ever had. Now is that all? Are we good?"

"I still don't think..." I tugged at the bottom of the muggle shirt, the _bed_ shirt, the top that was never supposed to be worn in public. Ever.

"You were fine about this earlier Draco." She sighed at the look I gave her. "Ok not _fine_, but you did say yes."

"I didn't think I would be as nervous." Yes, ok, I said it. I was nervous. Actually, what was one beyond nervous? Because whatever that was, I was that. "I look like an idiot and my hair is a bloody nightmare and at this moment in time I couldn't tell you a single Potions formula."

"But you look gorgeous!"

"I look _muggle_."

Pansy steered me over to the mirror and wrapped her arms around me from behind.

"You're hair looks great." She lightly touched the hair she had been working on furiously for the past hour, ruffled into a look that (according to Pansy) said _I've-just-been-shagged-now-who's-up-for-round-two_?

It was more 'crazy bed head' than 'well-groomed and sophisticated' like I had been planning but as I didn't really want to die at Pansy's hands by saying so, I kept stum.

"And those trousers really hug your arse."

"Pansy I hate denim. Can't I wear –"

"No you can't. Potter will _love_ you in those jeans! They really accentuate your legs –"

"Making me look even shorter than I am!"

"– And actually, after you're done with them can Blaise borrow them? He would look so –"

I covered my ears and watched her lips form words I _really_ didn't need to think about in connection with my best friend. After a few seconds she batted them away from my head with a roll of the eyes and a murmured 'idiot'.

"Right let me see you then," she said, handing me my school bag full of potions books and forcing me backwards a few steps. Her eyes raked over me critically, taking in the things that only girls can see, like say, a missed belt loop. "Now turn around. Slowly."

I turned, feeling ridiculous. I chuckled to myself as I wondered if Harry was getting ready for our not-a-date date with as much care and precision as I was. The thought of Granger helping him pick out his clothes was _ludicrous_.

"Pansy – what?" Her eyes were actually _welling up_.

She caught me in a breath-restricting hug, careful not to touch my hair. "You just look so...happy," she sniffed, giving my shoulder a pat.

If happy can be roughly translated to agonisingly nervous then yeah, I was happy. "Um, yeah, I am. Listen thanks for the makeover – " Or maybe it should be make-_under_ as I was now more casually dressed than I had been in the last decade " – I'm heading off now."

She rubbed her eyes embarrassedly and then beamed at me.

"When you get back I want _every little detail_, you hear?" I gave her a salute and then marched out of the door. She still managed to smack me on the arse and giggle before I had quite made it out.

~O~

"Be calm," I told myself for the millionth time since I had arrived. "He is still coming." My hands were clenching and unclenching quickly and I had to literally force myself to stop. "Worrying about it won't change anything."

The thought that Harry might have stood me up was utterly terrifying.

It was five o'clock and I was by the lake, just like we had planned. Well, not exactly five o'clock, more like ten minutes to. There _was_ still time. It wasn't Harry's fault that I had arrived early, was it? I knew I should have taken Pansy's advice and arrived fashionably late but, well, I had been excited. Excited enough to come down here at 4:30.

My stomach was full of fairies. This was our first unofficial _its-not-a-date_ date. Anything could happen from here on in, from violent rejection to passionate sex!

Merlin...Sex.

Something in me lurched and I laughed nervously to cover up the beginnings of fear. Potter hadn't even shown up yet and I was worried we might end up having sex? I always was jittery about stuff like that. Never mind the fact that he just wanted help with his potions work, and was interested in girls, and apart from a brief holding of hands there was sufficient evidence that he didn't like me?

I fiddled with the strap on my bag and tried to think of anything other than sex. Now it was in my head I just couldn't get it out again. Sex. Sexsexsexsex. This was crazy – I would be lucky if I got so much as a kiss from the Golden Boy, let alone anything like...that.

_Stop thinking about sex_.

It was easier said than done. I pressed the palm of my hand firmly onto my groin, trying to stave off any feelings of _that_ nature. I fixated on the water of the lake, lapping gently against the bank with wet sloshing noises. Wet and...sensual noises. Almost like...kissing. I will strenuously deny this if asked but yes I was finding the noises oddly...sexy.

I know, I know, I'm a freak! But in my defence I was already turned on by thoughts of Harry, so technically...

Fuck, this was so bloody stupid! I didn't even _want_ to have sex with the specky git. It was an altogether terrifying idea. Things would have to go in places they were definitely not meant for and that would be...horrible. I thought about what Pansy had said at breakfast. _Just between you and me, I always had you pegged for the...submissive_.

But that didn't matter, I told myself firmly, because we wouldn't be having...we wouldn't be doing...THAT.

Potter probably wouldn't want to anyway, even if he _was_ gay and liked _me _of allpeople. Be deflowered by his former Slytherin rival by the lake when anyone could see us? No.

But...just in case anything did happen – which it wouldn't – there was no harm in being prepared was there?

I spent a while trying (and without a doubt _failing_) to find a seductive pose. Laying on my side with a leg slightly bent and hand propping up my head seemed like a good idea until I realised how girly it would make me seem. As straight as Harry undoubtedly was, I wanted him attracted to me for _me_, not because I reminded him of his girlfriend. Knees bent up to chest with head thrown back didn't seem to work either, as my neck still hurt from transfiguration.

Flat on my back was uncomfortable. Leaning against a tree with one leg on a branch was too weird, even for me. On my hands and knees with legs a little parted... It was as I was mentally assessing this last pose that the sensible and dormant part of my brain came back to life. Its first question was, quite simply, _what the fuck do you think you are doing?_

Trying to find the best position to have sex with Harry Potter. Had I gone _insane_?

I spent the next five minutes arranging and then rearranging my textbooks into alphabetical piles, all the while chiding myself for thinking such illicit and stupid thoughts. I changed my mind about the text books and scattered them all out in 'casual' disarray. I was confident there was nothing Harry could throw at me – potions wise at least – that I wouldn't be ready for. I had skived off lunch in the Great Hall to cram my head full of ingredients and stirring patterns and everything I could find that he might think to ask me.

The only thing that was missing was the one thing that really _needed_ to be here. Harry.

Where on earth was he? It was two minutes past five now – he was definitely late.

I stood up and stretched, tugging my stupid muggle top down when it rode up to reveal a sliver of pale stomach. That was something I wasn't about to show when Harry got here.

_If_ he got here.

I let loose a frustrated sigh and walked down to the water's edge. It was calm down here, with only that stupid lapping noise disturbing the dark water. It was annoying. I picked up a smooth flat stone and ran it between my fingers, contemplating smashing it into the lake. It was almost completely round, I noted, much like Harry's glasses.

I looked down at my watch and saw with a stab of shock and sadness that it was now ten past five.

So he really wasn't coming then. I wondered what good excuse he would have lined up for me tomorrow. Trapped in a cupboard somewhere on the fifth floor with no hope of escape? Kidnapped by Filch for an innocent crime he didn't commit? I swallowed as I thought of the very worst excuse of all and praying it did not ring true. What if he had _forgotten_?

"What a bastard." I skimmed the stone away from me, and watched it skip seven long jumps before sinking. "What an absolute _bastard_!"

"Are you talking about the stone or me?"

I almost fell in the lake. I spun around, dizzy with relief that he was here, actually _here_.

_Don't do anything stupid_, my brain warned me, as I felt a hug reflex kick in. _Do not say _anything_ stupid_. _Just say Hello_.

"Potter," I said, obvious relief in my voice. _That was not Hello!_ I could feel a desire to state the obvious bubbling up inside me, getting stronger and stronger as I looked at him. "You're –" _Do not say 'here', do __not__ say 'here'_ " – late."

"Oh. Sorry."

There was a moment of mutual ogling going on from what I could tell. I for one was looking appreciatively at Potter's clothes. Pansy had been right after all then about the muggle look being a hit with Potter. He was wearing a black jacket that was cut flatteringly instead of loose fitting and unlike anything I had ever seen him in before. The top of a t-shirt peeked out from under it and made me feel slightly better about the one I was wearing. His trousers were not jeans like I had on but black slacks which met with brightly coloured trainers.

It seemed I wasn't the only one who had dressed to impress for which I was glad. It wasn't like I'd hated his clothes before or anything but...these were nice. Even so, Potter seemed completely at ease in clothes that put me out of my element. I was scuffing the toe of my own trainers (Pansy had forbidden me from wearing my dragon hide boots) against the floor in apprehension.

Harry seemed to be struggling just as much as I was.

"You...you look..." he coughed and then looked directly into my eyes. "Really good. You look really good Malfoy."

My heart felt a little warmer all of a sudden, like a tiny fire had been kindled in my chest. "Thanks Potter. You don't look overly hideous either." Why? Why did I have to say something like that to him?

Harry cracked a smile and seemed to relax a little. "Same as always," he said contentedly. I couldn't tell if he meant himself or me. I kind of hoped he didn't mean me. I had done of _lot_ of changing recently.

"Why were you late?" I asked, because it was my turn to say something, not because I was still a little stung from the waiting. Not at all.

"Have you been here long?" His lip caught in between pale pink lips and he looked suddenly aggrieved. "I'm really sorry about that. It's just something came up – with Ginny. I had to tell her..."

I flushed an angry scarlet at the Weaselette's name and Potter seemed to sense the mood shift.

"Can we please not talk about her?"

Merlin why did he have to bring _her_ up?

I was mollified by the fact that Potter seemed even more embarrassed than I was by this slip. Maybe even in his Gryffindor brain he knew that discussing his girlfriend with the boy who kept trying to kiss him was pretty insensitive.

"Right, sorry. So, um, here's a crazy thought...could you teach me how to skim stones? That one you just did was pretty impressive. I've always been rubbish at it myself. Ron tried to teach me but got fed up quite quick, said I was a hopeless case. That's me – a hopeless case! Hopeless..."

He looked at me and then blushed darkly, seeming unable to stop the torrent of words coming out of his mouth.

And I, in all honesty...I was a little turned on. Harry Potter was _babbling_. Talking nonsense, waffling, he had foot-in-mouth disease – _whatever_ you wanted to call it, Harry was blathering. Because of me, he didn't know what to say.

That was what gave me the confidence to smile.

"No wonder you suck at Potions Potter if you can't even skim a stone. Maybe we'll take it from here."

Harry looked relieved, his shoulders relaxing out of their hunched position. He even shot me a smile back which in turn went straight to my head.

"Great! I mean, um, fine. If you want to...?"

I don't think my smile could get any wider if it tried. Oh Merlin what had I done to deserve a moment like this? Oh wait, I know. Only been ridiculed and embarrassed by the whole school since my awful 'coming out'. This was justice well served.

"Not that one," I said quickly, as Harry reached for a heavy grey stone by his feet. It was sleek and beautiful and overall sickeningly perfect, as far as stones went. "That's the wrong stone."

"I didn't know there was a 'right' stone."

"Well then, that's where you've been going wrong, isn't it?" I said, putting a note of exasperation into my voice. "You're obviously not good at choosing things." Like stones.

Or girlfriends.

"Think of the stones as being like potion ingredients," I said suddenly, trying to make him understand. "You wouldn't just pick up an ingredient at random and chuck it in would you?"

I had meant the question to be rhetorical, but Harry still shrugged.

"Well which one would you choose?" He brushed hair out of his eyes – I doubted his hair even knew what a comb was – and looked at me with a hint of challenge, if truth be known. "They all look the same! And there's not exactly a recipe of this sort of thing you know."

"That's like saying all ingredients look the same."

"Well they _do_! It's all just powdered this and chopped root of that. Choose me a stone Malfoy."

I believed I was beginning to understand Harry's low marks in Potions.

Other than his complete abuse of my potions metaphor, I could definitely get used to this. Our banter, which had before quickly led to wands drawn and punches thrown, had somehow mutated into this. This easy, sarcastic _friendly_ stuff. I wasn't nearly as bad as I had thought it would be.

I dropped a stone into his hand and brushed my fingers over his palm, holding my breath. We may be alright talking, but small physical touches might be pushing the boundaries of our temporary camaraderie.

He shivered and whipped his hand back, clutching at the stone, flushing a minute amount. This was more than great, this was _amazing_. How had this even _happened_?

_There is no perfect way to woo somebody – it happens through the little things. A lingering touch, a heated look, a sense of humour_...Pansy was a fucking genius. Who knew that all this 'just be you' stuff actually worked?

"Right so now..." he weighed the stone in his hand and then made a quick motion as if to throw it. He even held his other hand up to his eyes and whistled, pretending to watch his imaginary master throw. He then turned to me and grinned, hiding the stone behind his back. "Did you see that? Nine skips at least!" He gave me the thumbs up and went back to tossing the stone between his two hands.

I could not stop the feelings of delight that were consuming me. Harry was _weird_ and _funny_ and yet miraculously still _sexy_. Who else except Potter would be able to string the three of those together? If I had had any doubt before about wanting him, they were blown into extinction.

"Yeah," I said, my voice wobbling a little. "That was really beautiful."

He looked up at me again from under long dark lashes.

I wondered if Harry noticed that I was standing on a slightly raised bit of bank, a good few inches above his own, so we were eye to eye. If he did he was tactful enough not to mention it.

"Now will you show me yours?" He asked politely, motioning towards the lake.

"Huh?" Look, I couldn't help my lack of manners ok? My mind was a mess of innuendos and fluff. "Show you my what?"

He laughed lightly, a sound that touched both his eyes and my groin. "Your skimming prowess. But I'd be delighted to see anything _else_," he looked me boldly up and down, "you have to show me."

My facial muscles froze into a look of stunned surprise.

Was Potter...flirting...with me?

I held his gaze for as long as I could bear before coughing and looking away. "Alright Potter. I'll show you my..." Another cough, slightly more embarrassed this time. "I'll show you."

Yes, I could have jumped him. Maybe I should have done. When he demanded what the hell I thought I was doing I could say he was leading me on with the seductive tone and that look. But I wouldn't of course, because people don't do that to the people they...

Like.

I picked up a stone and weighed it in my hand. Anxiously. It was time to either sink or skim.

To my surprise, it was a perfect throw, at least ten jumps before disappearing below the surface. I let out a breath and smiled before I could help it. I turned to Potter, fully intending to flaunt my stone throwing victory...

...Only to find him smiling just as heartily as I was, with those dimples of his on full display. Damn.

"That was a really good throw Malfoy." Not even a hint of sarcasm or a sneer in his voice, just plain and unambiguous openness. His voice was doing funny things to my insides. "Teach me?"

I didn't move, just looked at him. "Teach you. Right."

His grin stretched a little wider. "Yep. Much more useful than Potions is ever going to be, I'm sure. So...you coming down from the bank now?"

I wasn't sure if I was more offended by the disparaging remark about Potions or the fact that he knew of my ledge. Huffing, I hopped down onto the lower bank where Harry stood. I scowled as the height difference immediately reasserted itself, which meant I had to tilt my head up slightly to look him in the eyes. Why did the balance always tilt in his favour?

I gave him a flat white stone brusquely, making sure not to touch him this time. I wasn't sure I liked the way things were panning out now. Harry was looking so happy and self-assured that it made me feel uneasy and inadequate.

"Now what?"

"You throw it in the water." Idiot.

Harry raised his right arm as if to throw a quaffle at someone.

"Not _over arm _Potter, _Merlin_."

Harry gave me a raised eyebrow. It wasn't the sardonic gesture that I often used, but more of a questioning 'so-why-are-you-still-standing-there' way. A way that expected some active participation on my end.

I crept up behind him, half reverent, half terrified. I leant close enough to his back to reach his hand, but not near enough for my pelvis to touch his back. It was awkward but not nearly as awkward as the alternative situation would have been.

"You just..." I brought his hand back to the right angle and couldn't help rubbing my thumb along his knuckles. "You just have to make sure the angle is right, that's all."

I swung our hands around hard, sending the small grey stone sailing into the water. It jumped three times before sinking, which wasn't too bad for a two person skim.

"See?" I said, whipping my hand back as soon as possible and tucking it safely into the pocket of my jeans. "It's easy."

Even I could see that his next throw, without my assisting arm, was awful. It sunk on contact with the water and was whipped out of sight immediately. Harry huffed when he caught sight of my small smirk. "That was a perfect shot before you say anything. It was just the stone. It was a bad stone."

I poured all my disbelief into a cough. "Maybe you just can't get by without me."

Harry just stood there, watching me. His fingers were tucked into the sleeves of his jacket like he was cold or...awkward. But that was a stupid thought. I was the one out of my depth here, not perfect Potter.

"So, no hiccups today then?" He asked uncomfortably, an obvious subject change. He still attempted a smile though, like this was a private joke we shared.

"What? I don't – oh." I had had hiccups yesterday right after the crazy bit of hand holding and date arranging. Because far be it from Harry to forget any of my more embarrassing traits. "No, I'm all hiccupped out."

Hiccupped out? _Hiccupped_ out? My inner Pansy despaired.

"Good to see." He grinned. "Oh and I brought you something."

"A...gift?"

Something in my expression must have tipped him off to how confused I was. Confused and hopeful.

"Nothing to get excited about!" He said hurriedly, eyes widening slightly. "It's not...well, it's only silly. You'll probably laugh."

Suddenly, I didn't care if it was silly. I didn't care if Potter's idea of a nice gift was a piece of driftwood or an elaborate poem. Just that he had thought of me, of something I might appreciate or like or...whatever. It made me feel...like I wanted to shag him.

The alarm bells went crazy in my head. _Do not think about things like that, ever. He held your hand but that's not a green light to thinking about things like that_.

I remembered before he got here and the nervous-embarrassed poses I had tried out. It wasn't so impossible that we wouldn't...and the lake was such a romantic place to...maybe if I played my cards right, we might...

"What is it?" I asked, pushing the illicit thoughts back and a dazzling smile forwards. It was only when Harry looked slightly blind sighted that I realised I had never smiled so widely at him. Go slowly Draco. "I mean...can I see?"

Harry gave me a shy look and then led us both up the bank to where our bags lay. A white cardboard box had been placed carefully next to Harry's things. He gave me a small wave to open it.

My fingers trembled slightly as I opened the lid and peered inside.

Harry's defensive side suddenly reared after a few moments of silence. "Oh God, do you not remember? If you don't this is going to make me look _so_ weird –" He pushed fingers through his hair, making it look even messier than usual. "Yesterday when we were arranging where to meet and you said 'cake' instead of 'lake' by accident? And you looked so cute and embarrassed and I just thought – as we'd be working for a few hours on Potions and all and I saw you missed dinner –"

He saw I'd missed dinner?

"Forget it, I'll get rid of it, I just –"

"No, I want –"

"Let go, I'm going to chuck it –"

"Potter! I want the damn cake alright?" That shut him up. "I remember the conversation. And...this is really nice. Thank you."

Now he really did look shocked.

I clenched my hands together. "Oh don't go all Gryffindor on me," I said, trying to restore a bit of normality to proceedings. "Its good that we're friends enough to do stuff like this. It's Christmas soon you know."

Harry suddenly looked like I'd splashed him with water.

"Friends," he repeated, giving me a quick smile. "Yes _friends_ give gifts." A muscle in his cheek was twitching a little too now I thought about it. He looked put out but before the emotion could stick, it was replaced by one of...panic? Nervous about something. His hand was sneaking into the cake box.

"Hey!" I batted his hand away and he froze with only his fingers inside the rim. "I thought this was for me?" I smiled into his hesitant face. It's not every day the guy you're crushing on brings you chocolate cake just because he can. My smile slipped when he looked genuinely alarmed. "Relax Potter, I'm joking. You got a fork?"

To my surprise, he pulled one out of his bag, looking sheepish. "Thought you might want one."

"Your generosity knows no bounds does it Potter?"

"Shut up."

As I leaned over the box, about to get a good look at what I was plunging my fork into, Harry's eyes grew huge and he threw up a finger to point at something behind me. "Oh – er-look, what's that?"

Feeling self conscious with Harry's eyes trained on whatever was behind me, I turned around slowly.

There was nothing there.

"What am I meant to be looking at Potter?" I made to turn back towards him but he made a noise of protest.

"Just look! Don't you see it?" He was either trying to make me look like an idiot or he was insane.

There was a rustling behind me, like paper being folded and I span back round to look at Harry. He had both hands behind his back and smiling like an angel. The cake box had moved a few inches. Harry was an entirely too innocent to be an angel.

"Potter what..."

"There was...there was a...wait, have you ever seen anyone die?"

This was the weirdest first unofficial date the world had ever seen.

"Well no, but what does –"

"It was a Thestral," said Harry confidently. "Just a Thestral. Nothing to worry about."

"Right." Except now I was worrying. Not because I was afraid of Thestrals, but because I had just remembered the time when uncle Filius died in his food four Christmases ago. So I could see Thestrals. And there were definitely no Thestrals to see.

"Are you sure you saw a – mmph!"

Potter had quickly placed a forkful of cake into my mouth. Merlin help me, I was head over heels for an absolute basket case of a person.

"This isn't drugged is it?" I mumbled, holding a hand up to my mouth so he wouldn't see me eating and talking.

The look I got in return of the question was answer enough. "Is it good?" He asked levelly.

"Yeah," I said, because it was. "Try some," I blurted, holding the fork out. He accepted it readily, taking a bite and handing it back to me. I watched him chew, feeling a little happier. Wait until Pansy heard of the fork sharing, cake eating, _thing_ we had going on! I'd leave out the imaginary Thestral part of course.

I had to say it, as it was all I could think of. "You're so much weirder than I thought Potter."

He swallowed the cake and looked at me with an expression I couldn't place. "Everyone needs a weird friend though right?" Did he place a bitter inflection on 'friend'? Maybe my ears were playing me up.

I snorted at his actual words. If only he actually knew Pansy and Blaise like I did! "I've got enough of those to last me a lifetime. But it's ok Har-Potter. I wasn't saying you were weird in a bad way, just..." In an absolutely good way. So interestingly flawed – and the very person I just so happened to fancy the pants off.

"Well anyway. Shall we start some potions?" I asked politely, watching as his expression plummeted down again from the cake-induced-bliss it had been at a few moments ago. "Come on, get out your stuff."

He did, as slowly and reluctantly as I had ever seen anyone do.

"Right then." I sat cross legged while Harry sprawled next to me, the books a nice little barrier between us. "Let's begin."

Harry's expression said quite clearly 'do we have to?'

As delighted as I was that Harry Potter would rather sit around skimming stones, eating cake and making me look at things that weren't there with me than anything else, I sobered myself up.

"Alright. What level would you say you are in Potions at the moment Potter?"

He looked at me confusedly, and I had to bite my tongue harshly. No distractions Draco, keep focused.

"You mean on a scale of one to ten?"

I rolled my eyes, a heartbeat away from laughing. "As in, what grades are you getting in our assignments? Acceptable? Poor?" There was a mumbled response that I had to ask for again. "What?"

"I said D. Dreadful. I am Dreadful at Potions." He looked up at me from where he had been tearing out shoots of grass. "I'm probably the worst Potion maker you'll ever meet."

"I think I'll be the judge of that thanks. You're in safe hands Potter, I'm an awesome teacher. And do you think part of it's because Sev doesn't like you?"

"Merlin _please_ don't call him that. And Snape hating me doesn't help matters I guess but..." he shrugged. "I just don't get any of it."

"Alright then." Message received: Potter really was as hopeless at Potions as I had feared. "Let's start from the beginning shall we?" The look of relief that crossed Harry's face made me cringe. Had he really expected me to tease him? After everything that had happened between us recently?

"Without looking in the book, tell me the three most common ingredients used in advanced potion making."

Harry looked caught off guard. "Well there's rats tails...right? Oh and we use monkwood a lot..." I nodded encouragingly, even though rat tails was a wrong answer. "And Venomous Tentacula leaves?"

I contemplated smacking myself on the forehead. But hey, nobody said this would be an easy task. Harry had probably felt the same way when teaching me defence.

"Here's how this is going to work Potter," I said, enjoying the way he perked up now the questioning had stopped. "You are going to listen to everything I say with rapt attention, not the half daydreaming expression you usually wear in class. I'm going to test you on basic Potions knowledge first then we'll move on to stirring patterns and the different equipment used when brewing. Next we'll begin doing NEWT practise papers and finish by brewing something for real."

I enlarged the practise cauldron I had brought out with me to its full size and then picked up the nearest Potions book. Harry's eyes were huge.

"If you do well, there'll be a reward."

"And if I don't?"

I reached across and patted his hand encouragingly. "Then you will feel the brunt of my rage." I thought of all the ways that I could punish the gorgeous Gryffindor boy. "I'm sure I'll think of something."

~O~

"And if you add all the separate components together in a different order to the original book recipe – like we just did a moment ago Potter – you can see that you have the base for a blood replenishing potion and not a blood clotting one."

"Yes but _why_?" Harry's brow was furrowed and two fingers were massaging his temples. "It says here that you shouldn't change any of the amounts."

I wasn't exactly sure which of us had moved or when, but at some point we had shifted closer together. Harry's thigh was gently touching my own from butt to knee, my dark jeans to his light ones. I leant across him briefly to grab his text book.

Sighing, I inked a huge line through one of the paragraphs. "This," I said stiffly, "is wrong. It's put in there to confuse you."

"Got it." Gently pulling the book onto his own lap, Harry wrote BULLSHIT along the margin. "Anything else?"

I spent a while highlighting and crossing out sentences of his book, adding a few annotations. There was something glorious about leaving my mark on Harry's things, knowing that his knowledge was a reflection of _my_ knowledge.

"Why do they make it so bloody confusing?" Harry asked suddenly, laying down and tucking his hands behind his head. "It's like they _want_ me to fail. You should be a teacher, Malfoy. You're really good at explaining stuff."

"Am I?" It didn't matter if my expression was sardonic because he couldn't see it.

"Yeah," he chuckled, and I saw his legs cross contentedly. "With you there's just no bullshit, you know? You tell it how it is, not how you think it should be."

"Err. Thanks."

To be honest I was much more interested in the strong clear lines of his legs in those trousers than I was on Potions – something I could not often say. My eyes kept flicking of their own accord to any part of Harry I could see; at the moment, his ankle, lower leg and knee. Maybe that was the reason he had lain back, to stop me ogling his eyelids, his ears, and chin. What was worse, I couldn't shift my position to look again without it being completely obvious.

"Your...your annotations are atrocious," I said gruffly, tearing my eyes from his badly tied shoelaces. "What does 'AH' stand for anyway? Add Hog liver?"

Harry sniggered, and the one hand I could see in my peripheral vision began picking at the grass. "It means 'Ask Hermione.'"

To my amusement, I noticed it was next to almost everything.

"And HWR? Surely that should be HWC, Handle With Care Potter." It apparently meant Handle Without Ron – Weasley being the main ingredient of Harry's bad potion-making skills.

Settling down into a more comfortable sitting position, I flipped idly through Harry's book, decoding the terrible handwriting. 'Turn down heat(?)' took at least ten minutes, and after snapping at me that there was no need to turn it upside down, the hand picking grass stopped and Harry lay quietly.

I crossed out most of what I found, including the stupid 'I hate Snape' scribbles and unintelligible notes such as 'Add red stuff with gold bits. No water. Maybe stir. Blue? Spiders. AH!' I loaded up the quill and wrote in my neatest script, _Add in the red Gillywing feathers (with green flecks, _not_ gold you idiot) and stir eight times clockwise, twice anti-clockwise until a light turquoise. Add in the crushed spiders, three at a time until potion simmers_.

On the hiccupping solution, I crossed out the useless scribble 'This potion preventing hiccups' so hard that the page almost tore. Harry may be friendly, sexy and heroic, but one word that couldn't be used with him was concise.

I turned onto the Muscle Strengthening Elixir, the topic of our last lesson together, planning to write in a few suggestions. To my surprise, the entire page was filled with Harry's small scruffy lettering, almost covering the recipe. Sneaking a glance at Potter (who now had his eyes shut and was breathing deeply) I began to read.

_He's sitting with Neville! Looks a bit tired and edgy. Wonder – has he a hangover? Neville just made him laugh. He looks good laughing, like he's younger or something. Wonder what they're saying_.

My breath caught. Ok, Harry was _really_ bad at writing but – most importantly – he was writing about _me_. Me and Longbottom apparently. My fingers curled instinctively around the book.

_Wish I was better at Potions. Wish Snape would stop glaring. Can't stop yawning! Keep remembering last night. Can still see the heart round his eye...Looks cute. Malfoy, not Snape_.

Something was, very slowly and horribly, clicking into place.

_Wish he would stop ignoring me. Look over here Malfoy! LOOK OVER HERE. I thought he was supposed to like me - shouldn't he be looking_?

Oh. My. Merlin.

_Wish I hadn't gone to bed at stupid-o'clock now. Was worth it though. Slytherins are fun drunks_.

And there it was, that horrible realisation.

The drinking, the lipstick, and the uncontrollable giggling. Me kissing Blaise, me _admitting how much I liked Harry Potter_. Oh my God. Bloody Merlin! HE WAS THERE. LISTENING! Something painful seemed to lodge in my throat. It was all coming together in my mind now.

Harry had an invisibility cloak. The door had opened. There had been noises –

He had been there for the duration of my overly emotional stint. Had he seen me _cry_? Please God let him have come after that little episode! This was the end of my _life_.

And yet...he hadn't said a word about it to anyone. If he had, the whole school would be buzzing with it by now. So he had just...what? Kept it to himself?

Not being sure if I could speak, I tried anyway.

"Are you awake...Potter?"

There were no signs of life, except a twitching eyelid. Harry wasn't listening.

How could he look like that while he slept? His hair fanned out like a dark halo and the way his arms folded behind his head only emphasised his biceps. But none of that mattered as I _wasn't thinking about that_. I was thinking about what a _cunning little bastard_ he was. Sneaking into other people's dorm rooms? Who _does_ that?

"And if we take Brillo's anti-clockwise theory to be true..." I tried experimentally. Usually when Harry found something dull his nostrils would flare. I took the non-flare to mean he was asleep. To be honest I could barely concentrate on what I was saying, no wonder Harry couldn't. I felt an unpleasant jolt go through me. Had he gone to sleep because I was _boring_ him? Or because he'd been busy spying on someone else last night?

"And if I wanted to make a potion to improve concentration, I would take off all my clothes and dance in a circle."

No movement. Not even a quiver.

"After stirring in the sheep's heart I would cover myself in leaves and chocolate and take the virtue of a handsome young man."

Still. Bloody. Sleeping.

How was this even happening? I had thought that any Gryffindor would want to keep an eye on me when around potion ingredients. Stupid spying Gryffindors.

"Are you really asleep?" I asked sharply, giving him an annoyed look. Maybe the reason Harry hadn't been asking obvious questions and mumbling was that he was actually dead or something. I poked his leg with the end of my quill.

He didn't say anything, which I took rather personally.

"_Potter_! Wake up right now or I'm going to..." What, tickle him? This wasn't Pansy or Blaise I was dealing with here. "Well, you're not going to like it, whatever it is."

He was awake now, I knew it. His eyelids flickered but remained shut and pink lips had curved upwards with the dimples that appeared for my own private viewing. He gave a very unconvincing snore.

I let out a laugh before I could quite clamp down on it. _This was the boy who broke into Slytherin, remember_? Inner-Draco insisted. _Why are you forgiving him so easily_?

I paused to consider, even as Harry continued to fake-snore.

Maybe I was forgiving him because, deep down, I knew he wouldn't have done it for any cruel reason. Anyone who could lay by the lake with his ex-enemy, eating cake and pretending to snore couldn't be _that_ bad. Even if I didn't know why he'd watched me, neither of us could change the fact that he had.

But, knowing him, it was probably for some kind of obscene moral Gryffindor thing. Maybe one day, I would make him tell me. But not right now.

Silently, I marvelled at myself. Forgiveness _already_? Harry was such a good influence on me.

I allowed a small smile to light my face as I considered the boy before me. He was an absolute nutcase. Helpfully, I happen to like nuts.

The snoring picked up a notch and my heart warmed. "You are an idiot, you know that right? This is your last chance."

Another smile, slightly wider than the last. Followed by a challenging snore.

Well, what else could I do? It was fully justified. I lifted up his shirt and pressed both of my ice cold palms to his stomach.

It was worth it for the wide eyed yelp of alarm it got.

"Christ, Draco!"

"Ha! Awake now?"

Now would be a good time to remove my hands. Yes, now..._now_. Except it's kind of hard to think about anything when your breath has been taken away in excitement. And mine was. There was utterly no air in my lungs at all.

"Your – your hands are so _cold_," he said quickly, offering a hearty grin. He didn't move away from said cold hands though, just lay there, propped on his elbows with his t-shirt now scrunched up around his ribs. He looked so beautiful.

"Yeah, people keep telling me that." Of course by 'people' I meant Potter. I had not put my hands on anyone else in a very long time. I didn't think I'd ever _want_ to touch anyone else's skin again anyway – Harry's was like a drug.

"Draco."

"Mmm?" I muttered, my eyes wandering leisurely over his perfect face. I was wrapped in the desire to reach out a little further and run my lips along his cheek, kiss the tip of his nose, lick his –

"Your hands are, um, still there."

Not only were my hands still there, but sliding higher and higher to bump over each of his individual ribs with the pads of my fingers.

"Sorry!" I pulled my hands back as if burnt, cradling them to my chest. I was such a pervert! Feeling up Harry Potter's stomach? Who _did_ that?

"No!" he grabbed at one of my hands before quickly letting go again, blushing. "I don't mind them being there! It's just...they really were very cold Draco."

I didn't look at him, instead looking at my own hands in disbelief.

Maybe it was the mention of my first name on his tongue, maybe it was the admission that he didn't mind me groping his midsection. Whatever it was, it had caused my heart to doubled in size. My throat was dry, my fingers tingling, emotions wobbling.

I managed a curt nod before getting a hold of myself. "By the way, you're not a very good actor Potter."

He looked relieved, pleased, and just like...Harry. My weirdly inflated heart did a tap-dance even as he stuck his tongue out. "You're the one who asked if I was asleep! And I wasn't by the way. I was just listening with my eyes closed. The sound of your quill scratching is very..." He picked at the corners of his sleeves and left the end of his sentence hanging.

Was very _what_? Hypnotising? Beautiful? Erotic?

"Yes?" I said, hopefully.

He blushed. "I can't think of a metaphor for it."

"Oh." Well, having just seen firsthand evidence that Harry's talent for words and writing were at a shocking standard, I wasn't offended.

"But I _was_ listening to all that stuff about the Mandrake leaves," he said earnestly. "Seriously, I was. You put it across so much better than Snape does. I think I might have understood about a third of everything you said." I glared at him. "Alright, call it half."

I squeezed my hands together tightly to disguise how much I really wanted to put them back to Harry's chest.

"Did you get the part about the vapours?"

"You can tell how toxic a potion is by the size of the steam...or something." He nudged his glasses up his nose and pulled an adorably confused expression.

"And the rules about temperature?"

"Never add any crushed, mashed or ground ingredients to a potion exceeding 90 degrees because it will explode – like last week. Honestly, if Snape had just told us this, there would be a lot less catastrophes happening from Ron's and mine side of the classroom."

I rolled my eyes at him. "He expects us all to know by now Potter. This is NEWT level, you should be studying about an hour a night anyway." Instead of spending your nights spying on Slytherin drinking sessions.

"I do work an hour a night!"

"Not last minute homework, I mean revision. An hour of potions every day would see you right." His expression told me I was crazy. "Ok, well maybe just half an hour for you Potter."

"Yeah, and that would last for about, what, a day? The only reason I'm studying now is because you're here with me."

I swallowed, taking a gamble. "Well maybe we should do it together in the library." What had possessed me to ask...if we should 'Do it'? Do _it_ in the library. Such a shameless innuendo. "I meant –"

"Like a date?"

I took a moment to look at his face. It was utterly calm, though there was a hidden emotion betrayed through his eyes. Merlin I loved those eyes.

What would happen if I said yes? One of two things. He would (in an ideal world) grin, pull me into a kiss and take it from there. Our own happily ever after. But the other option was a slap, no more Harry, the assertion that he had been joking and of course it wasn't a date.

Why was my neck always on the line with this perilous relationship?

"Of course not," I asserted, shoving my own damned regret back into its tiny box. "I don't think Weaselette would like that very much would she? No, I meant as friends."

What a heart-breaking word it was.

"Friends. Right." Harry seemed to think so too, with his eyes downcast again. How did I keep managing to upset him? I wasn't even aware of what I'd done this time. I was ruining my _not-a-date_ date without even realising it.

"You ok Potter?"

He looked up with a small reassuring smile. "Yep, I'm fine."

I decided to take a risk. Praying that Pansy would forgive me if this went wrong, I leant forwards and settled for a puzzled expression. "You don't look fine to me. I'm not convinced."

A sideways glance and a little sniff. "I can't help it if you don't believe me." But – no – I didn't want him thinking I didn't trust him! Harry brought me out of this panic with his next words. "How am I supposed to prove it?" Because there he was, there was the Potter I knew and lo–

Liked.

It was the Potter who was always up for a challenge, always ready to prove himself. Of course that also sounded a lot like _me_, but...

"Use your initiative Potter." I said it even though I don't think that _I_ knew what I was hoping for now. What, that he would do a cartwheel? Sing a song? But there was a spark of challenge in his eyes that I couldn't resist. A little bit of 'I'll show you'.

"Ok Malfoy. Watch this." He leant towards me...And kept leaning.

We were...getting a bit...close.

And then I couldn't watch because when exactly did my eyes close?

"Malfoy," he said lightly and I made a little affirmative noise in my throat. Any second now and he would say – "Can I borrow that spoon?"

"Mmm yes – what?" The 'what' that came out was rather quiet in comparison to the one in my head. Mental Draco actually said WHAT? WHY DO YOU WANT A SPOON? Unless it was for some strange illicit activity, then –

"You'll see. Give it over."

I did, but with mental Draco grumbling the whole time. Was he cracking up? Was I?

Harry rubbed the end of the small cake spoon on the bottom of my jacket, trying to clean it. That got a raised eyebrow from me and the silent question of 'what the hell?' Looking at me with a look that in some countries must be illegal, he breathed hard on the spoon. My eyes dilated. They became even wider when he proceeded to the rub the spoon hard on his nose. To hell with the Pureblood decorum, I was goggling at him. He repeated the breath, rub, breath and rub a few more times.

Finally, with a significant look in my direction, he took both hands off the spoon and left it there, hanging on the tip of his perfect nose, waiting. For my own reaction or the world to implode, whichever came first.

Before I could stop myself, my face seemed to break down the middle and I threw a cuff over my mouth in embarrassment. My brain had somehow translated 'weird muggle spoon trick' into 'funniest thing I've ever seen'. After a moment of panic, I realised that there was no stopping the laugh. It seemed that Harry scribbled wish _He should laugh more_, was coming true. It was just unfortunate that I was laughing the weirdest laugh the world had ever seen. It was a gasping, open mouth, lean forwards laugh which I might just die of.

Where was this even coming from? I never laughed like that and yet now I was crying with it, my eyes wet and dribbling down my cheeks.

"Are you ok?" was the half worried, half amused question from Harry. He had reached out a hand to me, like I was in some serious trouble. No, what was I saying, I _was_ in serious trouble. And while the sensible, Pureblood, Malfoy version of me fought to say _yes, I'm fine Potter_ the stupid immature _I'm-crushing-on-Harry-Potter_ part noticed that the spoon wobbled when he asked the question.

And then I was _snorting_ like only Pansy knew I was capable of and the shame was making my entire body go red, not just my face.

I tried to speak but I couldn't. All that came out was a gasping "_Oh...Merlin_."

It occurred to me, even as I tried to muffle as much of the sound as possible with my hands, that somewhere along the line Harry had started to laugh too.

And even if I didn't know why this was the funniest moment of my life somehow it was, and the spoon had fallen off his nose and we were leaning against each other like idiots and I was jealous of Harry's nice normal laugh and –

He had manoeuvred our weird sitting position that somehow our knees were jammed together. I liked up-close-laughing Harry more than any other version I had encountered. And I did like the Harry that leaned on me too.

His hair, as soft as I remembered it being from the defence lesson, was on my neck. His shoulders, as broad as I remember feeling them in our hug, were juxtaposition to my own smaller ones. The laughter was fading out now but he hadn't moved away – even if he had I probably would have dragged him back. This was surely the nicest seating arrangement in the world.

We were close. As close as we'd been in the Charms corridor when I'd kissed him, as close as we'd been in the Potions cupboard when he'd been right behind me, as solid and present and _there_ as he had been in our defence lesson.

He was so close, I noticed a moment later, that I could feel his breath against my face. It was warm and sweet and Harry. My eyes flicked down to his lips and then quickly up again because he was watching me. I blushed, letting the colour slowly fill up my face.

He was still smiling. "Well, the secret is out now isn't it?" he said, nudging me playfully with a shoulder. I looked at him nonplussed. "Mr Big Bad Slytherin snorts when he laughs." He didn't look mean as he said it which was probably the only thing that kept me from hitting him.

"That wasn't me," I tried pointlessly. "I think that was you."

He laughed and the motion shook me as well. "Nice try."

"Look, it's not all the time," I defended, feeling the burning need to justify myself. "It almost never happens – it was just that stupid spoon. It got to me."

"The spoon, was it?"

"Yes. I just find spoons really...amusing." I frowned at myself after I said it. What was worse, having Harry think I liked spoons or I liked him?

Regretfully, Harry started laughing again and moved out of our side-to-side position in favour of sitting cross legged in front of me. I wished he wouldn't. My face was much too expressive for comfort.

"God you make me laugh." He was looking at me like I'd just given him permission to smile after years of telling him to be miserable. Actually, that pretty much was how our relationship had panned out.

But I made him laugh? I had never been especially funny that I knew of. Witty perhaps, in a dry and sarcastic way, but this was surely a good thing? He looked good when he laughed. Unless it was _at_ me instead of _with_ me, then everything once again sucked. The way he said it however made me take it as a compliment.

"I'm glad," I told him sincerely. "You should laugh more. It suits you."

Before I could comprehend what was happening (though it happened quite slowly), a calloused hand had slid into my own pale one. I had to physically stop myself from shutting my eyes – Merlin knew I wanted to see where this was going.

"Draco Malfoy," he said, with a voice like one would use with...someone they cared about. _A lover,_ my mind instantly replied. No, don't think like that. He's just a friend. _A friend who's touching your hand_. Right.

"You are so...odd."

It was probably obvious from my pained facial expression because the hand that had been gently cradling my own now gripped tightly. Well, if he had no problem with pawing my hand, I didn't see why I should feel awkward. Hesitantly I let my other hand fall upon his knee. And left it there until he got the hint and held that one too.

"I meant what I just said," he said warmly, slowly running his thumb down my knuckles. "You make me laugh like I can't remember laughing in a long time. And you're smart, and beautiful."

He stopped and I realised that yes; that weird strangling sound was coming from _my_ throat. _Shut up_! I begged myself. _I want to hear the rest_!

"Keep going," I managed to say, though my voice came out horribly croaky. This was surreal. Potter thought I was funny? And intelligent? And good-looking? When, in between the fighting and the denial and the whole school hating me, had _that_ happened?

"You're a good person," he said, and the finger stroking seemed to turn up a gear into a definitely 'real' feeling. "Though you pretend not be. Why is that?"

Despite the fact that the answer was one of the most obvious I've ever heard, I humoured him. Taking one of the conjoined hands that was still resting on his knees – _his knees!_ – I used it to gesture to myself pointedly. "Slytherin." That one whispered word seemed to encompass everything that needed saying.

"And I'm a naive and sentimental Gryffindor I suppose?"

I swallowed once. Swallowed twice. The lump in my throat wasn't going away anytime soon.

"Potter. I can't think straight."

"Is that a euphemism?"

Because I wasn't straight. Ha ha. "No but it's just a little hard to think right now."

He did move his hand at last from its clinging position of my hand to a slightly softer stroking position on my knuckles. "I think I'm getting a similar thing myself." He was? "But thinking's overrated."

"What are you saying?" I said, probably breaking any type of mood we had going on between us. But it didn't matter because I just couldn't stand the ambiguity anymore. No more double meanings or mysterious touches, I wanted to know and know for sure.

"I'm saying what you think I'm saying. I think." He looked excited. And nervous. About to burst.

"Which is_ what_?" I pressed.

There was a heated pause, and before I had a chance to say 'what' again with irritation, he had pulled me towards him using our joined hands. I went stumbling into his chest and –

We kissed.

On the mouth.

And it was definitely not an accidental brushing of lips. This was the real deal – holding hands, eyes shut, heavy breathing... He kissed me!

Even as my brain melted out through my ears at the sheer _unexpectedness_ of it, all my body seemed capable of was blinking and breathing heavily through my nose. Harry's eyes were clamped shut, I noted, as was his mouth. Warm chapped lips that were utterly soft and dry. _And pressing against mine_.

_Move your lips_! Inner Draco implored me. _Open your mouth! DO SOMETHING_.

Harry's eyes were fluttering open, displaying an unhealthy amount of fear in their green depths. His hands were slackening on mine and I could almost predict the runner he was undoubtedly planning.

And then the lips I had been craving for weeks_ left mine_. Moved _away_. "Fuck I'm Sorry Mal-"

It was hearing the first syllable of my surname that spurred me into action. Which, thank fuck, is when all the self preservation fell right back into place. Grabbing the Gryffindor idiot by the back of the neck I all but threw myself at him, inadvertently smacking our heads together. But it was ok because he could say anything more that "Fucking ow-!" I'd found his lips and they were slick with his own saliva and now mine.

_If this was my only chance to kiss Harry Potter, I might as well do it right_. See, if you think about it like that then it totally made sense that I clambered into his lap and wrapped my legs around his waist. Oh, and snogged the life out of him. It may have _looked_ a little desperate, but hey, I'm not one for labels.

I nibbled his bottom lip, stroked all his teeth with my tongue, placed soft biting kisses all along his jaw and drew patterns across his cheeks with the tip of my nose.

And even though I was squeezing the life out of him with a bear-like grip, I wanted to be closer to him. _Inside_ _him_ a tiny voice in my brain supplied. I choked on the thought, the idea of it similar to a mental slap. But somehow 'inside him' didn't look as impossible as it once had if the way Harry was responding was any indication.

My hands couldn't resist fisting in his hair, tracing the curve of his ears, his neck, his shoulders. Harry's hands seemed to have the opposite idea and were ghosting over my calves, knees, and – I swallowed back the fear – my thighs which were still secured around his waist.

Harry gasped as my tongue stroked his, dancing over it lazily, crazily, touching every part of him. After an eternity of frantic kissing, practical and verbal Draco resurfaced.

"Do you really – Potter – Is this really –"

"Keep kissing me," Harry panted, rubbing circles into my inner thigh, making it burn with desire. "No more talking, just kissing –"_ Harry Potter wanted more of my kisses_. That is my defence for having no thoughts.

I let go of his hair for favour of clutching at his face a little desperately, trying to get more heat, more wetness, more Harry. He was the best thing I had ever tasted, the warmest, loveliest, and most gorgeous person I had ever kissed.

I wanted to smile and laugh and cry with the greatness of it all. "I've wanted...forever," I managed to pant between gasps for breath.

In between sucking on my lips and planting soft biting kisses all around my mouth, I heard a whispered "_Fuck_. This is so –" His lips couldn't seem to draw back from mine for more than an instant. I was glad. There was enough warmth in his mouth to last me the rest of my life.

"Amazing?" I mumbled into his mouth, which helpfully took the gasp out of the words. "Sexy? So brilliant that we should have started ages ago?"

"Ages ago?" He panted, nibbling my lip until it was almost painful. "– when?" Merlin, where had he learnt to do _that_?

I almost said 'the first time I met you' before remembering that we would both have been eleven, and therefore disgustingly little. "Years...ago." God that _tongue_. It must be dipped in truth serum. "You must know...that you've been a handsome fucker...since you were – _oh_ – fifteen!" See?

Harry drew back unexpectedly, drawing form me an involuntary whimper. "You...wanted...in _fifth year_?"

Did I honestly want Potter in fifth year? I spluttered for a moment. "It's irrelevant. Less talking, more kissing Potter."

I allowed my eyes to flutter shut by themselves as Harry grinned into the kiss. Everything I'd wanted from him, was suddenly happening. I didn't want to question it but...nothing in my life had _ever_ been this easy. Fuck, there was too much emotion in me. Kissing Harry was the best thing I had ever felt in my life and he liked it – liked me. Wanted me.

Bypassing good manners, I threw my arms around him, wrapping him in a fierce hug. My legs had already moved to sit in his lap and there was no time to be embarrassed about it. He was mine, _finally_ mine! I buried my face in his shoulder.

"Draco," he murmured, and he was so close that the word made me shiver. I'm sure that one word was the most beautiful thing to have ever left his mouth. It was as if all his thoughts poured out into that word, filling it up until it couldn't take any more.

I closed my eyes. My breathing was too harsh, too quick, and unstoppably sappy. He had called me Draco. Like he meant it, like he wanted to say it again and again until he couldn't say it anymore.

Something had changed and snapped between us, leaving everything open and burning and raw. "Hey...Draco?"

I had never felt anything like it. "Yes Harry?" My heart was surely about to crush all my other organs, it felt so heavy.

"I broke up with Ginny."

I wrenched my face away from his neck and sat back on his lap, hands on his shoulders. "You –"

"Broke up with her, yes." He had wrapped his own arms around my back and swaying us side to side with enthusiasm. I could feel his smile now.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The Ginger Shrew, Weaselette, the little Weasley bint...was gone? Gone from Harry's life and, somehow, gone from mine?

"When?" I whispered.

"Last night. Sort of around the time that I realised you were the one in all my dreams, not her."

Oh my God.

Oh Merlin.

"How did she take it?" I asked, biting my lip.

"Ah, not too well if I'm honest," Harry admitted. "I think she thought we were soul mates – or some other rubbish." He smiled and brushed a stray hair out of my eyes. "After we were done arguing and I was about to leave, she even rugby tackled me and started yelling 'Marry me Harry!'"

She did WHAT.

He had been mine for only five minutes and already I was up against a _marriage proposal_?

"Well that's just tacky," I said petulantly. Weaselette had _proposed_ to him? Why the fuck would she do that? The fact that I wasn't proposing suddenly made me look very uncommitted.

"Um, Potter? You're not expecting a marriage proposal from me too are you? Because as much as I like you – " I stopped talking abruptly. "Hey stop laughing! It's not _that_ stupid –"

"Sorry," he muttered, and pecked me on the lips. It was still weird to think that he could do something like that. "But right now things have never been better. I like you as my friend, my potions tutor and, especially, as a kissing partner. I happen to fancy the pants off you. I don't need a ring on my finger."

"Ok," I said, wondering how I had bagged such a good guy. "No ring." We sunk into another heavenly kiss. I ended it abruptly as an idea sprang into my head. "What about this then!" I scrambled off his lap and emptied out the contents of my school bag. Potions books, Herbology books, quills, ink bottles –

"Aha!" I held the tiny item aloft.

Harry gave it, and me, a look that warmed me from the inside.

"Wow...are you sure? Draco, it's too precious. That took you – what? A whole lesson to make?"

"Definitely. But it's of a very high standard."

I flipped the coin in the air and he caught it. The coin that had once been a ball of paper. He brought it briefly to his lips and winked at me, before sliding it into the breast-pocket of his shirt.

"I'm sure it is. Well then, it seems only right that you should get something too." He fished in his pocket and then proceeded to tie the stiff steel wool around my wrist. It was as Harry's fingers brushed softly over my pulse point and he made a little 'hmmm' of approval that something enormous slotted right into place.

Harry Potter, saviour of the world, the most handsome boy I had ever known, the funny, smart and strange Harry Potter...liked me.

He _liked_ me.

"You _like_ me," I said softly, feeling the press of desire and warmth wrap around me like a blanket.

"Yep," he confirmed, and Merlin, those dimples were making their star performance on slightly red cheeks. "Though goodness knows why." He held up the spoon I had completely forgotten about. I blushed.

"I like you too," I muttered, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

He was grinning, and though it was the best thing I had ever seen, I was self-conscious. "What?" With the hand that wasn't wrapped in Harry's, I touched my hair nervously.

"I kind of got that you liked me... what with the kissing and the touching...and _this_." He glanced down and my eyes followed his.

Ah, there was the inevitable embarrassment that I had been waiting for. No moment with Harry could follow without it. I was just too clumsy. I was obviously rock hard beneath the stupid fabric of the jeans, my crotch pushing into Harry's stomach. Why was I sitting on him again?

I pushed a bolder version of myself forward with a terrible effort. What did I really have to lose now anyway? He had told me the unbelievable truth that he liked me. Embarrassing things could happen without me worrying as much.

"Well what are you going to do about it Potter?"

He looked taken aback for a second, then surprised, then determined.

"I'll show you," he said. And he did.

~O~

**AN:** Thanks for reading everybody – just one more chapter to go! I'd be interested to know what you think Harry was doing when he's talking about the non-existent Thestral... Thank you for all the reviews too, you make all the writing worth my time


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